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POE'S HELEN 




SARAH HELEN WHITMAN 

From the portrait in the Hay Library, Brown University. Painted in 1869 by 
John N. Arnold 



POE'S HELEN 



BY 

CAROLINE TICKNOR 



ILLUSTRATED 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1916 



A 



\8" 



Copyright, 191 6, &y 
Charles Scribner's Sons 



Published September, 19 16 






OCT -4 1916 




'Q. A 438711 



TO 

THE MEMORY OF 

CHARLOTTE F. DAILEY 

WHO MINISTERED WITH LOVING CARE TO 

MRS. WHITMAN'S LAST DAYS 

AND GUARDED FAITHFULLY THE LITERARY HERITAGE 

PLACED IN HER KEEPING 

THIS VOLUME 

IS INSCRIBED 



PREFACE 

AFTER the lapse of half a century, Poe 
/§ still remains the one romantic figure in 
the field of American letters — a figure 
in whose dramatic personality the public in- 
terest centres so persistently as almost to obscure 
his literary claims. 

And those that were linked with him by ties 
of love, friendship, or even hate have thereby 
gained their lasting titles to literary immortality; 
titles to which Poe } s tributes to their merits, set 
forth in the pages of his "Literati" would never 
have insured them. 

Pre-eminent among the literary women who 
were closely associated zvith the poet stands 
Sarah Helen Whitman, presenting a mystical, 
poetic figure, quite as romantic as his own, 
zuhose claims to literary immortality should rest 
securely upon her own poetic contributions. 

The story of her brief engagement to Poe {the 
year before his death) has often been recounted, 
but her own story, so closely identified with that 
of the important men and women of her time, 
has, until now, remained untold. 

For nearly forty years the literary correspond- 
ence, from which the substance of this volume is 
derived, has been preserved in the Providence 

[ vii ] 



PREFACE 



home, where Mrs. Whitman spent her last days. 
Following her sister s death in 1877 she ac- 
cepted the invitation of her friend, Mrs. Albert 
Dailey, to make her home with her, and there 
she passed the last months of her life, carrying 
on her extensive correspondence and preparing 
for the press a new edition of her poems. 

Believing that a memoir of herself would soon 
be written, Mrs. Whitman, who had preserved 
the correspondence of a lifetime, busied herself 
arranging, classifying, and even annotating the 
letters which seemed to her to possess vital in- 
terest, as did those especially relating to her as- 
sociation with Poe and his biographers. At her 
request, C. Fiske Harris and Doctor William 
Channing became her literary executors, and the 
latter, who was a lifelong friend, wrote the preface 
to the collected poems published after her death 
in 1878. 

Subsequently, Doctor Channing made over 
Mrs. Whitman s correspondence to Miss Char- 
lotte F. Dailey, in whose keeping, as literary 
executrix, and that of her sister, Mrs. Henry R. 
Chace, it has remained until to-day; Miss Dailey' s 
recent death leaving Mrs. Chace, by whose kind 
permission the following material is used, in 
sole charge of the manuscripts and letters. 

While there is much of charm and interest in 
Mrs. Whitman s correspondence that has not 
been made public, the substance of the material 
relating to the Poe episode has been already 

I viii ] 



PREFACE 



chronicled, hi her endeavor to do justice to Poe *s 
memory, Mrs. Whitman gave freely to his biog- 
raphers, on both sides of the water, details of 
her experience and copies of the important 
letters relative to her romance with the poet. 
Thus, owing to her zeal in this direction, a 
goodly portion of her material relative to Poe is 
widely scattered throughout the pages of a half- 
dozen biographies. And this species of courtesy 
wasy after Mrs. Whitman s death, extended by 
Miss Dailey to the late Professor Harrison, to 
whom she gave the privilege of using certain ex- 
tracts from her collection in his biography of 
Poe. 

Poe' s love-letters {now kindly loaned by Mrs. 
Chace, for reproduction), which have been, from 
time to time, quoted in more or less fragmentary 
form by Poe' 's biographers, were for the first time 
printed in full during the Poe centenary cele- 
brations in 1909. At this time a very limited 
edition was issued {through the courtesy of Miss 
Dailey and Mrs. Chace) under the auspices of 
the University of Virginia. 

Poe 's letters to Airs. Whitman, unique among 
productions of their kind, must remain in the 
permanent niche which they have won among 
the world 's classic love-letters. In the present 
volume they are for the first time fitted into their 
proper place in the romance of these two poets, 
who loved to make love in poetic form. Among 
Mrs. Whitman s own letters, hitherto unpub- 

I a ] 



PREFACE 



lished, those of Mrs. Clemm, and many others 
of that day, will be found much that vividly re- 
flects contemporary life and that casts new light 
upon the ever-interesting subject of the true 
Edgar Allan Poe. 

C. T. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER 


Sarah Helen Whitman 


PAGE 

I 


//. 


Mrs. Whitman s Early Life 


9 


///. 


Friendship with Curtis and Hay 


20 


IV. 


The Romance of " The Raven" 


42 


V. 


Poe's Love-Letters 


56 


VI. 


Poe's Love-Letters (continued) 


77 


VII. 


Poe's Love-Letters (concluded) 


97 


VIII. 


The Broken Engagement and Poe's 
Death 


118 


IX. 


Mrs. Whitman s Sonnets to Poe 


140 


X. 


Clemm-Whitman Correspondence 


144 


XI. 


Mrs. Whitman s Letters 


172 


XII. 


Poe's Women Friends 


205 


XIII. 


Rival Biographers 


231 


XIV. 


Stephane Mallarme 


259 


XV. 


Mrs. Whitman s Last Days 


280 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Sarah Helen Whitman Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

Nicholas Power 10 

John Winslow Whitman 14 

Edgar Allan Poe 44 

Home of Mrs. Whitman, Providence 54 

Robert Stanard 90 

Facsimile of letter written by Poe to Mrs. 

Whitman 116 

Mrs. Nicholas Power 120 

Facsimile of original manuscript of Mrs. 

Whitman s poem " Arcturus" 128 

Mrs. Whitman as "Pallas" 200 

Drawing for "The Raven" 260 

Home of the Dailey family, Providence, where 

Mrs. Whitman died 282 



Poe's Helen 

CHAPTER I 

SARAH HELEN WHITMAN 

T ELEN of a thousand dreams," wrote 
Edgar Allan Poe to the woman who 
was most closely allied to him by in- 
tellectual and spiritual ties. Others lavished 
their affection upon this fascinating, morbid 
genius, but Sarah Helen Whitman loved him 
and comprehended that genius. With a clear, 
searching vision she perceived his pitiful weak- 
nesses and temperamental failings, which, 
though they loomed up darkly, never obscured 
from her the true, fine attributes of the real 
man. 

She saw where he in weakness failed, where 
he from prejudice, or passion, erred sadly; 
she deplored his faults and shortcomings, but 
her gaze rested steadfastly on a great spirit 
groping toward the light, a man of brilliant 
intellect, splendid imagination and marvellous 
power of expression. Herself a poet, she thor- 
oughly appreciated his poetic gift; a critic, 

[ i ] 



POE'S HELEN 



she could measure his keen insight into lit- 
erary values; a mistress of English style, she 
recognized in his creative touch the master- 
hand. 

Having once comprehended the man in his 
entirety, Mrs. Whitman would never allow 
the thought of any one phase of his conduct 
to alter her estimate of him, or to detract 
from that which she regarded as his just de- 
sert. 

Poe accorded her the loveliest of his poetic 
tributes and the most ardent of love-letters, 
he begged her hand in marriage, withdrew all 
claim to her small patrimony, and pledged 
himself to honorable deportment and self- 
denial. Then he failed miserably, proving 
himself incapable of living up to the standard 
imposed and forcing her to sever the tie be- 
tween them. Following her dismissal, Poe 
withdrew in anger and humiliation, not hes- 
itating in his chagrin to utter words of cruel 
bravado and biting criticism. 

A woman of less fine caliber would have 
exhibited some trace of resentment, or would 
doubtless have joined the chorus of Poe's de- 
tractors, but not so Mrs. Whitman, who 
cherished only sympathy for all his eccentric- 
ities; and when Poe's critics poured forth un- 
just and bitter denunciations, it was she who 
came forward with simple dignity, and in her 
little volume, entitled "Edgar Poe and His 

[ 2 ] 



SARAH HELEN WHITMAN 



Critics," publicly defended the object of their 
attack. 

It was most fitting that the figure of this 
woman of "a thousand dreams" should first 
have dawned upon the poet's sight as she stood 
in the moonlight which rested on her garden, 
for she was above all else a woman of poetry 
and moonlight. Yet with all her graces and 
fantastic moods, she possessed a logical, well- 
balanced mind, her judgment was keen and free 
from bias, and her critical faculties excellent. 

On the occasion of his first glimpse of Mrs. 
Whitman, Poe had visited Providence to de- 
liver a poem before the Lyceum. Restless near 
midnight he had wandered forth from his 
hotel and had strolled past her home, where 
she had stepped from the doorway to breathe 
the night air and the perfume of the garden. 
This incident, which at the time made a vivid 
impression on his mind, he afterward im- 
mortalized in one of his most exquisite poems, 
entitled "To Helen." 



I saw thee once — once only — years ago : 

I must not say how many — but not many. 

It was a July midnight; and from out 

A full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul soaring, 

Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven, 

There fell a silvery silken veil of light, 

With quietude, and sultriness and slumber, 

Upon the upturn'd faces of a thousand 

Roses that grew in an enchanted garden, 

[ 3 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe, 
Fell on the upturn'd faces of these roses 
That gave out, in return for the love-light, 
Their odorous souls in an ecstatic death — 
Fell on the upturn'd faces of these roses 
That smiled and died in this parterre, enchanted 
By thee, and by the poetry of thy presence. 

Clad all in white, upon a violet bank 
I saw thee half reclining; while the moon 
Fell on the upturn'd faces of the roses, 
And on thine own, upturn'd — alas, in sorrow ! 

Was it not Fate, that, on this July midnight — 
W 7 as it not Fate (whose name is also Sorrow), 
That bade me pause before that garden-gate, 
To breathe the incense of those slumbering roses ? 

Poe pictures the vanishing of this "en- 
chanted garden," which left him alone in the 
darkness retaining only the vision of the lady's 
eyes, which were no doubt exceedingly expres- 
sive: 

The pearly lustre of the moon went out: 
The mossy banks and the meandering paths, 
The happy flowers and the repining trees, 
Were seen no more: the very roses' odours 
Died in the arms of the adoring airs. 
All — all expired save thee — save less than thou: 
Save only the divine light in thine eyes — 
Save but the soul of thine uplifted eyes. 

They are my ministers — yet I their slave. 
Their office is to illumine and enkindle — 
My duty to be saved by their bright light, 

[4] 



SARAH HELEN WHITMAN 



And purified in their electric fire, 

And sanctified in their elysian fire. 

They fill my soul with Beauty (which is Hope), 



Had Mrs. Whitman failed to respond to 
this poetic tribute when the manuscript was 
sent her by its author, the romance might have 
ended there, but Fate had willed it otherwise. 

Poe's vision of her in the garden (or looking 
out upon it), took place in the summer of 
1845, at which time she was forty-two years 
old. Her meeting with Poe did not take place 
until three years later, when she was forty- 
five and he thirty-nine. Their birthdays were 
identical, both occurring upon January 19. 

A pen-portrait of Mrs. Whitman drawn by 
her friend, Miss Sarah S. Jacobs, may well 
supplement the interesting portraits painted 
by Thompson and Arnold, which hang to-day 
respectively in the Athenaeum and Hay Li- 
brary in Providence. 

"As she came flitting into the room and 
gave you her small, nervous hand, you saw 
a slight figure, a pale, eager face of fine spir- 
itual expression and irregular features, the 
dreamy look of deep-set eyes that gazed over 
and beyond, but never at you. Her move- 
ments were very rapid, and she seemed to 
flutter like a bird, so that her friends asserted 
that she was in the process of transformation 
either to or from the condition of a lapwing. 

[ 5 1 



POE'S HELEN 



"Her spell was on you from the moment 
she appeared (and she generally kept you 
waiting a little), but when she spoke, her em- 
pire was assured. She was wise, she was witty, 
she was interested in the things which we call 
'the topics of the day,' making them fresh 
and fair. 

"But it was not her imagination that chiefly 
bound her friends to this brilliant woman. 
Her qualities of heart were as engaging as 
her intellectual gifts were impressive. No 
one could be long with her without being 
aware of her quick, generous sympathy, her 
sweet unworldly nature, her ready recognition 
of whatever feeble talent, or inferior worth 
another possessed." 

Mrs. Whitman seems to have retained to 
the end of her life her personal attractiveness, 
and at the time of her death, at seventy-five 
years, it was said of her: 

'The freshness of her spirit and the charm 
of her presence were not lost in the vicissitudes 
of a life of strange and romantic experience. 
No one ever associated with her the idea of 
age, and she is represented as lying beautiful 
as a bride in death, her brown hair scarcely 
touched with gray." 

Mrs. Whitman doubtless possessed some- 
thing of that magnetic quality which was 
exerted by certain famous Frenchwomen, who 
at the age of seventy found suitors almost as 

[ 6] 



SJR.lll HELEN IVIHTM.IN 



ardent as they had been half a century earlier. 
Throughout her life Mrs. Whitman had a suc- 
cession of adorers, and her hand was sought 
in marriage, even in her latest years, by men 
who had long given her their devoted allegiance. 

Her home in Providence was a literary 
centre where the intellectual spirits of her time 
were accustomed to gather, and from the femi- 
nine as well as the masculine circle which she 
drew about her, she evoked extraordinary de- 
votion. 

Her correspondence, carried on to her sev- 
enty-fifth year, was a voluminous one, and 
embraced the names of George William Curtis, 
John Hay, Horace Greeley, and many others. 
From each she had the faculty of drawing the 
best, and to each she was able to give that of 
which the subject seemed most in need. 

It is a sad injustice to the memory of one 
of this country's most gifted women to allow 
her to go down to posterity as merely a charm- 
ing personage to whom Poe was engaged for 
a brief time. She was a woman of rare poetic 
gifts and vivid personality, and her title to 
fame should rest securely on her own work, 
and on the vital influence which she exerted 
upon all who came in contact with her. 

Without a complete knowledge of Poe's 
association with Mrs. Whitman, it is impos- 
sible to comprehend, not only the last phase 
of his career, but also Poe himself. For in the 

[ 7 1 



POE'S HELEN 



realization that this woman understood him 
as no one else had done, he poured out his 
heart to her in a series of truly remarkable 
love-letters, revealing his hopes, his fears, his 
hates and aspirations. He taught her to know 
him at his best, and she, in turn, filled with 
this knowledge, endeavored with unceasing 
loyalty throughout her life to tell the world 
the best about him, believing, as did Haw- 
thorne, that a man is "most truly himself 
when at his "very best." 



[ 8 ] 



CHAPTER II 
MRS. WHITMAN'S EARLY LIFE 

SARAH HELEN WHITMAN, who claimed 
descent from an ancient Celtic-Norman 
stock to which she believed Poe's lineage 
was also to be traced, was born in Providence, 
Rhode Island, January 19 (Poe's birthday), 
1803. She was the second of three children born 
to Anna Marsh and Nicholas Power, and first 
saw the light in the home of her grandfather, 
Captain Nicholas Power, on the corner of South 
Main and Transit Streets. Here the family lived 
until the grandfather's death, in 1808, when 
they moved "over the bridge," to the corner of 
Snow and Westminster Streets; later they re- 
moved to the "Grinnell House,'' and subse- 
quently occupied what was called the "Angell 
Tavern." Here their garden extended to the 
water, and from this place the children were 
rowed across the cove to Mr. Noyes's school. 
In 1813, Mrs. Whitman's younger sister, 
Susan Anna, was born, and shortly after this 
her father, who possessed a roving disposition, 
departed for North Carolina, whence he sailed 
for the West Indies. The War of 181 2 then 
being in progress, his vessel was captured by 
the British, and he was held a prisoner until 

[ 9 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



1 815, when peace was declared, at which time 
Nicholas Power failed to return to the bosom 
of his family, but continued his seafaring career. 
The early life of the young poet was shadowed 
by the anxiety occasioned by her father's long 
absence, which continued for years after his re- 
lease by the British. He was constantly expected 
home, but did not put in an appearance until 
nineteen years had elapsed and he had long 
been given up by his expectant household. His 
eventual return proved even more of a shock to 
his family than had been his original disappear- 
ance, and was characterized by his eccentric 
daughter Anna in the following couplet: 

Mr. Nicholas Power left home in a sailing vessel bound 

for St. Kitts, 
When he returned, he frightened his family out of their 

wits. 

In 1 8 16 the Power family removed to the 
house which will always remain especially iden- 
tified with them, situated at the corner of Bene- 
fit and Church Streets, where they lived for 
over forty years, and where Poe's brief romance 
took place. The fact that this house was painted 
red, distressed Sarah Helen, who was, however, 
somewhat consoled by the handsome woodwork 
of the interior, and by the lovely garden in the 
rear, immortalized by Poe. 

From her girlhood days this garden was a 
constant source of joy to Sarah Helen Power, 

[ 10 ] 




Nicholas power 

From a miniature- by Malbone in the Providence Athenaum 



MRS. WHITMAN'S EARLY LIFE 

who had a passion for flowers, later expressed 
in some of her most admirable verse; she did 
not like attending school, much preferring to 
read novels, and to share in the social activities 
of her elder sister Rebecca. 

For a short time she visited her aunt, Mrs. 
Bogert, on Long Island, New York, and this 
relative sent her to a school kept by John A. 
Griscom, a Quaker; during this period she 
met many cultivated people and came in 
touch with a much wider social circle than 
she had previously enjoyed. On her return 
to Providence she attended Miss Sterry's 
school for a brief time. Already she was amus- 
ing herself by writing humorous rhymes about 
the admirers of her sister Rebecca, some of 
whom began to turn their attention toward 
the younger sister; among these was a young 
lawyer named John Winslow Whitman, who 
upon a certain occasion, when the young people 
were having a frolic, shook the young poetess 
by the shoulders, exclaiming: "You hussy, 
you wrote those verses !" This tribute to her 
poetic gifts pleased the young woman ex- 
ceedingly, and from this time she began to 
regard the young lawyer with especial interest. 

In 1 821 Rebecca Power married William 
E. Staples, and in 1824 the engagement of 
Sarah Helen to John Winslow Whitman w r as 
announced. He was the third son of Judge 
Kilborne Whitman, of Pembroke, Massachu- 

[ 11 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



setts, and had graduated from Brown Univer- 
sity in 1818; he began his practise of law at 
Barnstable, but later took up his profession 
in Boston. His marriage to Sarah Helen Power 
took place on July 10, 1828, at the house of the 
bride's uncle, Cornelius J. Bogert, at Jamaica, 
Long Island, at whose home the bride had, in 
earlier years, spent many happy days. 

The honeymoon was passed partly at the 
home of the Bogerts on Long Island, and partly 
with Mrs. Whitman's aunt, Mrs. William 
Blodget, in Providence, in whose large and valu- 
able library the niece had improved her oppor- 
tunities to become better acquainted with the 
classics and with French and German literature. 
Mrs. Blodget gave the bridal couple a wedding 
reception in Providence before they left to take 
up their residence in Boston. 

Mrs. Whitman's taste for poetry was frowned 
upon by certain relatives, and her cousin, 
Susan Warner, author of "The Wide, Wide 
World," was, in later years, anxious for her re- 
generation. These relatives sent her reproving 
letters, penned in precise copperplate, in which 
they expressed the hope that she "did not read 
much poetry, as it was almost as pernicious as 
novel-reading." And they were also greatly 
distressed at her religious state of mind, which 
they feared was far from orthodox. 

Their admonitions, however, had small effect 
upon Mrs. Whitman, who doubtless viewed her 

[ 12 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S EARLY LIFE 

Cousin Susan's "Wide, Wide World " as a sadly 
restricted universe. 

In 1829 Mrs. Whitman's first published 
poem appeared; it was entitled "Retrospec- 
tion," and was signed "Helen," the name 
which she always preferred. At this time Mrs. 
Sarah J. Hale, editor of the Ladies' Alagazine, 
in which this poem was printed, became inter- 
ested in her work, and asked her for contribu- 
tions. 

For the next two or three years the married 
life of the young couple w T as rather an anxious 
one, as they were very restricted in their means 
and as Mr. Whitman was not possessed of 
practical business qualities. He nevertheless 
gained some recognition in his profession, and 
was also much interested in an invention, to 
reduce the price of steel by a cheaper method 
of production, which he hoped would prove 
an immediate road to fortune. During a visit 
to Providence he contracted a cold from which 
he never wholly recovered, and in 1833 n ^ s 
death took place w T hile on a visit to his father's 
home at Pembroke. 

Thus closed the first part of Mrs. Whitman's 
career, and the young widow returned to make 
her home with her mother and sister in Provi- 
dence. Here she continued her literary work, 
making occasional visits to her late husband's 
relatives in Boston. 

In 1838 the portrait of Mrs. W T hitman, 

[ 13 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



which now hangs in the Athenaeum in Provi- 
dence, was painted by Giovanni Thompson. 
It shows her in her widow's cap with pink 
strings, and gives an excellent idea of her 
personal attractiveness at thirty-five years 
of age. An exquisite miniature of her father 
Nicholas Power, painted by Malbone, is also 
in possession of the Athenaeum, and one may 
trace considerable likeness between the daugh- 
ter and the debonair and adventurous seafaring 
man. 

Among Mrs. Whitman's literary productions 
at this time may be mentioned a prize poem 
which she read at the opening of Shakespeare's 
Hall, in Providence, on November 27, 1838. 

It was between 1830 and 1850 that the 
Transcendentalists flourished in New England, 
and the subjects of theology, revelation, and in- 
spiration were the chief themes discussed. 
By entering into the transcendental spirit a 
man was made "a citizen of the world of 
souls." Transcendentalism was a form of pure 
idealism, the insistence upon the power of 
thought and will, and upon the exaltation of 
the life of the spirit above all material or 
physical demands. The persistent search for 
the things of the spirit at this time brought 
about an awakened interest in spiritualism. 

Mrs. Whitman and her immediate circle were 
intensely absorbed in this experimental field, 
eagerly discussed the results attained by vari- 

[ 14 1 




JOHX JVINSLOJr WHITMAN 



MRS. WHITMAN'S EARLY LIFE 

ous mediums, and corresponded with each 
other in regard to their individual beliefs. 
James Freeman Clarke, Horace Greeley, and 
many others of prominence in the intellectual 
world, busied themselves with spiritualistic 
research. 

Mrs. Whitman, whose mysterious and elusive 
qualities made her seem rather of the spirit 
than the material world, was by temperament 
particularly fitted for this transcendental epoch. 
Yet she could be blithe and merry as well 
as a lady of dreams, and on occasion she could 
command a fund of sarcasm. In the matter 
of clothes she was entirely unconventional, 
dressing in a style all her own; she loved silken 
draperies, lace scarfs, and floating veils, and 
was always shod in dainty slippers. She in- 
variably carried a fan to shield her eyes from 
any glare, and her pleasant rooms were never 
pervaded by anything but a subdued light. 

In 1851 she furnished the New York Tribune 
with articles on spiritualism, which were ex- 
tensively copied, and among those who corre- 
sponded with her on this subject were Epes 
Sargent, S. W. Eveleth, S. B. Brittan, Horatio 
Greenough, Horace H. Day, and Horace 
Greeley. The latter, in writing her upon this 
topic, suggested that he "would be pleased 
if Mrs. Whitman could find him a medium to 
take care of his children, and to accompany 
the family to Westchester," declaring: "I am 

[ 15 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



willing to believe, but the evidence seems to 
evade." 

Horace H. Day, who had sought Mrs. 
Whitman's acquaintance in connection with 
this mutual interest, remained to the end of 
his life one of her warmest friends, and her 
visits to England and France were the result 
of generous invitations from him. In return 
she wrote two poems for his household, entitled 
"Christmas Eve" and "Santa Claus." 

Mrs. Anna Cora Mowatt, the actress, was 
among Mrs. Whitman's friends who entered 
into the discussion of spiritualism, and urged 
her to contribute articles to Sargent's Maga- 
zine, a periodical with which Mrs. Mowatt's 
husband was associated. This lady began her 
public career by giving readings, and later 
wrote a play, entitled "Fashion," the success 
of which inspired her to go upon the stage. 
After only one rehearsal Mrs. Mowatt appeared 
in "The Lady of Lyons," and at the end of 
the performance received such an ovation as to 
assure her that she had chosen the right pro- 
fession. Her correspondence with Mrs. Whit- 
man extended over a number of years, and her 
residence in Richmond brought her in touch 
with many of Poe's friends. 

The New England of 1840-50 was the New 
England of changing ideals. The antislavery 
leaders were at their height of enthusiasm, re- 
formers of every school were breaking through 

[ 16 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S EARLY LIFE 

old bonds; prophecies regarding the end of the 
world were rife, Brook Farm was setting its 
unique standard and registering its famous ex- 
periments, and on all sides supporters of the 
kingdom of the mind and spirit were putting 
forth suggestions for the extension of those 
dominions. In Boston, Parker and Channing 
were names to conjure with, and Emerson was 
lecturing to delighted audiences. 

Margaret Fuller was conducting her famous 
"Conversations," and freely discussing the vari- 
ous topics which were enthralling the atten- 
tion of her contemporaries. She, too, was 
questioning the problem of spiritualism, and 
exclaiming: "I am perplexed about the spirits 
— that seem to come a great way to teach so 
little!" In 1838 she was teaching school in 
Providence, where for a time she touched the 
little circle that clustered about Mrs. Whit- 
man. Although friendly in their relations 
these two women were temperamentally op- 
posed to one another, and seldom found their 
points of view or their ideas in harmony. 
Miss Fuller was a woman of compelling power, 
while Mrs. Whitman was a woman of unusual 
charm. 

Among the latter's enthusiastic admirers was 
the Honorable Wilkins Updike,* whose corre- 
spondence extended over many years. He al- 
ways insisted that she would marry him even- 

Author of " History of the Narragansett Church." 

'[ 17 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



tually, and looked forward to the time when 
his persistence would conquer all objections on 
the lady's part. 

Mrs. Whitman's health, which was always 
frail, was a constant source of anxiety to her 
family. During her entire life she suffered from 
heart-trouble, and felt herself upon the verge of 
a departure from those whom she loved, and 
throughout her correspondence one finds fre- 
quent references to her belief that she is about 
to take leave of her friends. 

Her principal anxiety was in connection 
with her eccentric sister Anna, who was dur- 
ing her entire life guarded and protected by 
mother and sister. After the death of Mrs. 
Power, in i860, the elder daughter assumed 
the whole responsibility of the younger, who 
was ten years her junior, and to whose tyran- 
nical domination she unselfishly adapted her 
life. In the home at 39 Benevolent Street, to 
which they moved after the mother's death, 
Anna was the sole arbitress, and if she was 
not in the mood for the admission of visitors, 
none were allowed to enter. Anna seldom ap- 
peared when there was company, but enjoyed 
sitting near by, concealed in a closet or ad- 
joining room, where she could hear the con- 
versation that was taking place. Fearing that 
should her sister survive her she would not 
have sufficient means of support, Mrs. Whit- 
man during her last years scrimped herself 

[ is ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S EARLY LIFE 

pitifully in order to save all that was possible 
for Anna's future. In the end, Anna passed 
away one year before the sister who had ren- 
dered her such untiring devotion. 



[ 19 ] 



CHAPTER III 
FRIENDSHIP WITH CURTIS AND HAY 

THE role of literary mentor was one in 
which Mrs. Whitman excelled; she could 
inspire the young writer to do his best, 
touch gently upon his faults, and point out 
with admirable discernment the pathway to 
his higher capabilities. Among her letters from 
literary friends may be found many feeling trib- 
utes from those to whom she furnished both 
aid and inspiration. 

George William Curtis, whose subsequent 
achievements in the world of letters are too 
well-known to demand further comment, early 
enjoyed her sympathetic companionship and 
thoughtful criticism; he confided to her, in 
a series of long letters, his literary hopes 
and aspirations, and throughout their lifelong 
friendship accorded the same deference to her 
literary judgment that he exhibited when he 
submitted to her the question: "Is 'Trumps* 
worth publishing?" 

His correspondence with Mrs. Whitman 
opened when he was in the early twenties, 
just after his return from Brook Farm, and 
continued with great regularity up to the 
time of his departure for Europe in 1846. It 

[ 20] 



CURTIS AND HAY 



was later renewed at frequent intervals, and 
ended only with Mrs. Whitman's death, when, 
in 1878, Curtis wrote a feeling appreciation 
of her, in Harper ' s Magazine, in the September 
"Easy Chair." 

The early communications of Curtis, in 
which he poured out his heart about poetry 
and nature, are admirable examples of the 
"literary letter" in all its old-time elegance 
and elaboration. A few extracts from these 
reveal not only the thoughtful, poetic nature 
of the young man, but also reflect clearly Mrs. 
Whitman's own mental attitude, and the qual- 
ity of intellectual stimulus which she was able 
to bestow. 

The first letter from Curtis is dated Con- 
cord, April 9, 1845, and in it the writer begs 
Mrs. Whitman for more explicit criticism of 
his own literary work and offers his own theory 
concerning poetry and the poets. 

My Dear Mrs. Whitman: 

May I say a few words about poetry and 
Poets to you, hoping so to provoke from you 
a closer criticism upon my verses than you 
have yet given me. Is not the Orpheus & E. 
complete without the Introduction and close ? 
I do not remember that I asked you this, 
and if so, would it not increase the unity 
of impression if I should separate it from them. 
It has occurred to me that it might be so. Is 

[ 21 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



the poetical power shown in the conception 
and general effect of what you heard, as well 
as in the melody and illustration ? 

Is not "The Poet" more perfect than the 
Orpheus as a work of art ? Does not the pre- 
ponderance of thought make it less poetical, 
or is the thought subdued sufficiently under 
that veil ? 

And do you feel after this lapse of time 
when the novelty of the impression has worn 
off, that from what you heard there could be 
gathered a book which should be no unworthy 
offering upon that altar, where the greatest 
of men are Priests ? 

It was a great delight to me to find in 
you the insight into the poetical part of poetry, 
which I find in so very few persons. That you 
could realize, as I had so long done without 
sympathy, that the charm of a Poem, was 
not the thought nor the melody, but a subtle 
poetical perception, which gives the char- 
acter to the thought, and which from the 
nature of things is melodious, and so in its 
natural expression constitutes poetry, — shall 
I say that the poetical sense is so rare among 
men, so much rarer than the intellectual, 
that the most approved of the poems of the 
great Masters are not the most poetical ? that 
"As you like it" is less thoughtful but more 
purely poetical than "Hamlet," and that Tenny- 
son is more truly a poet than Wordsworth ? 



CURTIS AND HAY 



And to the perfect Poet belongs this fine- 
ness of perception and of equal necessity, 
faculty of expression. The prose Poets of 
whom we hear are men who have the first 
but not the second, and therefore they are 
the true audience of the Poet and his only 
Critics, as men who have a delicate apprecia- 
tion of form and color, are unworking Painters 
and so constitute the only valuable spectators 
of pictures. They cannot be called Painters, 
nor can the first-class be called Poets. 

Byron had the faculty but not the percep- 
tion. He did not see things poetically. With 
Shelley, I think more and more, Poetry was 
an elegant and passionate pursuit. He was 
too much a Scholar. This is seen in the forms 
his poems took. The principal ones are moulded 
in the antique Grecian style. With Keats, 
Poetry was an intense life. It was a vital, 
golden fire, that burned him up. Wordsworth is a 
man of thought, who gives it a rhythmical form. 

Milton would have been more purely a 
Poet, if he had been a Catholic, rather than 
an ultra Protestant. There is a severity in 
his poetry, which makes him the favorite of 
Intellectual men, — but is a little too hard — 
not oriental enough to satisfy poetical men. 

In Shakespeare was the wonderful blend- 
ing — the delicate harmony — but his sonnets 
would have been credential enough to his 
fit audience. 

[ 23 1 



POE'S HELEN 



Because in this sphere, man the intellect, 
rules, therefore that declares upon all things. 
Those books are eternal, those Poets Olympian 
whom it crowns. But it is a singular fantasy 
* of Nature, that the Intellect is always too 
intellectual to rightly estimate the value of 
Poetry, which is the higher language of this 
sphere. Music, so imperfect here, foreshadows 
a state more refined and delicate. It is a wom- 
anly accomplishment, because it is sentiment, 
and the Instinct declares its nature, when it 
celebrates heaven as the state where glorified 
souls chant around the Throne. Poetry is the 
adaption of music to an Intellectual sphere. 
But it must therefore be revealed through souls 
too fine to be measured justly by the Intellect. 

I hope that you will guess my thought 

from these fragmentary hints and will answer 

it and my questions as speedily as you will — 

Direct simply to me, Concord, Massachusetts. 

Yours truly 

G. W. Curtis. 

Throughout his correspondence Curtis dwells 
much upon his intense admiration for Keats 
and Shelley, in regard to whose work he carries 
on long discussions with Mrs. Whitman, urg- 
ing her to write an essay upon Keats, to match 
one which she had written on Shelley. This 
production had brought upon her the dis- 
pleasure of one of the most influential families 

1 24] 



CURTIS AND HAY 



in Providence, who regarded Shelley as an 
atheist, and any defender of his work as one 
who had fallen from grace. 

In his subsequent letters Curtis describes 
his association with the literary circle in Con- 
cord which embraced Hawthorne, Emerson, 
Thoreau, and others. He writes on June 22, 
1845, touching upon an article on Emerson 
which Mrs. Whitman had just published: 

"I have delayed writing until I should have 
returned from a trip to Wachusett mountain, 
and until I had read your article. The first 
I have done, the second not yet. Knowing that 
Mr. Emerson had it, I spoke to him of it, 
regretting that I had not seen it first to cor- 
rect some errors of which I had been advised. 
He was very curious to know the Author, for 
he said though it was headed 'By a Disciple' 
it was evidently written from a purely inde- 
pendent point, and he seemed to do such ex- 
cellent Justice to it, although he said it had 
the usual vice of kindness, which he says of 
all reviews of himself, that when he told me 
he thought he ought to know who wrote it, 
I ventured to tell him. I hope I have not done 
wrong. Henry Thoreau also said it was not 
by a Disciple in any ordinary sense. It is his 
copy which is here, and he wishes me to make 
it as perfect as I can. This week I shall see it, 
and will then write you. 

[ 2S ] 



POE'S HELEN 



"I went to Wachusett with Mr. Hawthorne 
and Mr. Bradford. It has long lured me from 
its post in the Western horizon. And as I 
climbed the green sides > I felt as an artist 
must feel, who first treads the ground of Italy. 
The verses which follow may express to you 
something of the feeling I had, although they 
are very unworthy." 

Curtis here introduces one of the many 
poems which he was in the habit of sending 
to Mrs. Whitman for criticism. This one, 
inspired by the beauty of Mount Wachusett, 
opens with the lines: 

Thou, bathing in the Summer air 
That graceful line of virgin green, 
How often I beheld thee there, 
And knelt to thee a native queen. 

In his next letter he expresses his apprecia- 
tion of her article on Emerson: 

"I read with great delight your article. It 
is the best I have seen upon Mr. Emerson. 
I might say that it finds more of a System of 
Philosophy than I think he is conscious of, 
although, after all you only indicate the central 
thought which animates his writings, and say 
such good things of Philosophy that it loses 
that very rigid outline which marks it in the 
Schools. I am glad that you treat him as a 

[ 26] 



CURTIS AND HAY 



Prophet rather than Poet. My feeling about 
the latter is very strong, and yet few con- 
temporaries write verses which I love so much. 
I wish you might have seen Mr. Emerson 
and Mr. Hawthorne for the last year, casually 
and at all times, as I have done, that I might 
know if you would not at last say, the wise 
Emerson, the poetic Hawthorne. I am going 
to show some of my verses to the latter. I 
do not care to do so to the former. And I do 
it with some trembling as I did to you, for I 
feel that he knows what is Poetry, and what 
is poetical, — what is the power of the Poet — 
and what the force of talented imitation. 

"The volume of verses by W. W. Lord, 
only warns me the more to wait until I am 
riper for deciding, before I venture to publish. 
I trust what you say implicitly and yet I 
waver, why is this ? . . . 

"Do you observe how in speaking of men of 
genius, we incline to measure them by the 
standard of entire genius, forgetting that 
every such man has but a ray, and makes 
beautiful only what that ray shines upon ? 
I have been very much amused by several 
persons saying that Ellery Channing could 
not be a true Poet, because he went to Eu- 
rope and left his wife as he did. They thought 
of the great perfect man, w^hom we choose to 
call Poet, and who is supposed to fill all the 
supposed duties of life as well as he sings. 

[ 27 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



While Ellery is a selfish, indolent person 
(though a good deal more and better) who 
certainly does write good Poetry. It is a ter- 
rible situation for them. They have hitherto 
perhaps thought him a Poet, but the true 
Poet ? would he have done so — Aut Cesar aut 
nihil. Good night." 

He writes in October of nature and the 
thoughts which the autumn awakens in his 
mind, and closes with a reference to his having 
now shown his early poems to Hawthorne: 

"I hope your long silence portends no ill- 
ness, at which you hinted in your last letter 
to me, which I received just as I was on the 
wing for the White hills, and answered only 
by a few songs, or has the Autumn which 
lies round the horizon like a beautifully hued 
serpent crushing the flower of Summer, fas- 
cinated you to silence with its soft, calm 
eyes ? This seems the prime of the season, for 
the trees are yet full of leaves and thickness 
and the mass of various color is solid,— before 
this month is over the woods will grow sere 
and wan, and so the splendid result of the 
year becomes its mausoleum. . . . 

"Through the Summer Mr. Hawthorne had 
the Orpheus the smaller long poem, and some 
of the smaller verses. It was most grateful to 
me to hear him say what he did, for I have 

[ 28 ] 



CURTIS AND HAY 



great faith in his perception. 'The Poet' I 
did not show him. The Orpheus he thinks 
may be corrected and improved by correction, 
which I felt w T hen you suggested something of 
' the same sort before. I will do that during 
the Autumn or Winter. 

" Concord loses very much to me in his 
final departure, which takes place to-morrow 
Friday. He is a fountain of deep, still water, 
where the stars may be seen at noon. 

"Mr. Emerson is writing lectures upon 
Plato, Goethe, Swedenborg, Montaigne, and 
Shakespeare. 

"I have been most of the day with Ellery 
Channing, whom I like very much. If I was 
to remain here through the winter I should 
know him much better than I ever have for 
I have seen him very little since I have lived 
here. 

"I am not afraid of silence in my friends, 
so you shall write only when you care and 
can." 

Continuing his correspondence from New 
York Curtis discusses the phases of city life 
which contrast so vividly with those which 
lie close to nature; his views sometimes differ 
from those of Mrs. Whitman in regard to their 
mutual friends, and also on literary subjects; 
especially do they disagree in their attitude 
toward certain productions of Margaret Fuller, 

[ 29 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



while Curtis does not share in Mrs. Whitman's 
admiration for Poe's work. He writes from 
New York in January, 1846, six months before 
his departure for Europe: 

"You will have seen from my last letter 
that I did not sympathise with Miss Fuller's 
view of Cromwell, but I thought her review of 
Longfellow one of the best things that I ever 
saw of hers. How is it that we differ so much, 
for you say while those on Cromwell were 
among her best, those upon Longfellow were 
among the worst. She seemed to me to give 
him with great tenderness and consideration 
and due appreciation his just place. She did 
not abruptly say, 'you are no Poet,' but having 
expressed her views of Poetry and the Poet 
measured him by it. He failed by that as he 
has long ago by mine and by that of his best 
friends, and most calculated to appreciate 
him. . . . His verses are pleasing to me, but 
I see a thousand old Teutons looking through 
his eyes and giving them the light they have. 
Very many seem translations from the Ger- 
man, the imagery and the circumstances are 
not his own, but are pleasant to him from as- 
sociation and study. Miss Fuller's criticism 
of imagery I think unjust. It is overflowing 
another and drowning him in her Individual- 
ity, but in the main I should say with her, 
that Mr. Longfellow is an elegant scholar, a 

[ 30] 



CURTIS AND HAY 



man of good taste and delicate mind, who is 
fluent and sweet, but writes from a vein of 
sentiment which is not sound, and is too 
little inspired to write anything important. " 

It may be of interest at this point to insert 
a paragraph written upon this topic by Mrs. 
Whitman to Ida Russell, another of her lit- 
erary protegees (to whom Whittier at one 
time paid his addresses). 

"I last night read to Eleanor,* Mrs. W. S. 
Burgess, Miss Fuller's notice of Carlyle's 
Cromwell. We thought it very spirited and 
unaffected both in thought and style. Her 
remarks on Longfellow, however just in the 
main, were in manner and spirit most un- 
gracious. She writes well on many subjects 
but she is too short-sighted to * scourge the 
magpies from Parnassus.' I have known her 
more than once to mistake a nightingale for 
a magpie — Witness her judgment and con- 
demnation of poor Keats — a sentence which 
in compliance with the highest authorities 
she would now doubtless, gladly reverse." 

In this letter to Miss Russell Mrs. Whitman 
discusses Poe's criticism of Miss Barrett, and 
quotes his view of Shelley, showing her in- 
terest at this time in his critical work. That 

* Mrs. Burgess was aunt to George W. Curtis. 

[ 31 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



she has also discussed the same subject with 
Curtis is evident from his next statement: 

"You speak of Poe's article upon Miss 
Barrett. I should much like to see anything 
really good of his. With the exception of his 
volume of Poems I know nothing of him save 
a tale in one of the Reviews a month ago, 
which was only like an offensive odor. There 
seems to be a vein of something in him, but 
if of gold he is laboring through many baser 
veins, and may at last reach it. In one of the 
foreign reviews I found a recent article upon 
Miss B. It was on the whole, just, although I 
am struck with the utter want of sympathy 
between Critics and their prey. This Review 
disposed of the lady as a jockey disposes of 
horses. And yet I love to have those whom I 
love pass through this coldest ordeal and show 
that they have something for it." 

In February the European plan begins to 
take form, and Curtis questions whether his 
friend Burrill will consent to accompany him 
at a date earlier than had been previously 
suggested: 

'What should surprise me the other day 
like a bird flying into the midst of the Winter 
silence, but a proposition from Ellery Chan- 
ning for us to accompany himself and George 

[ 32 1 



CURTIS AND II AY 



Bradford to Italy in May, and there pass a 
year! I thought at once that I could not go, as 
a Lover looks coldly upon the Mistress whom 
he adores, but I found that the direct proposal 
had kindled the long dormant spark into a 
flame, and that sooner or later it would elevate 
me to that soft celestial atmosphere, which 
spiritually and physically belongs to Italy. 
Burrill leans upon his hand and thinks intently 
about it. He wants to postpone, to study the 
language more thoroughly, to read the his- 
tory of the country, until every stone and 
tower shall tell readily what it is and has been. 
But I seldom think about things — A proposi- 
tion comes to my mind and is ripened into ac- 
tion without any influence wilfully upon my 
part, like a nest egg hatched by the sun and 
not by the parental warmth. So this idea of 
Italy lies cooking, and what the issue will be 
is not at all certain. I think it very doubtful 
if we go in the Spring. If we do not, we shall 
lose our party which is so pleasant to my fancy, 
but we shall gain a better knowledge of the 
language than we have now. If I went I should 
regard it as a preparation for going again here- 
after, and yet I feel as if I should be very un- 
willing to come home again when once there. 
"Since Ellery's letter came I have been 
reading Saddle books and Italian travel. Shel- 
ley's letters from Italy please me very much. 
They are so full of delicate appreciation of the 

[ 33 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



country and all its influences. He was so finely 
wrought that it seems the air must have passed 
into his frame and mingled many a golden 
secret with his being, which no tongue can 
utter and no coarser nature feel. There was a 
spiritual voluptuousness in his nature which 
Italy alone could satisfy, and which constituted 
in him, so much of his Poetical feeling and 
fancy. The same thing was in Keats, but in 
him more fiery and intense." 

When June arrives the final plans for de- 
parture have been arranged and Curtis, who is 
making a last visit to Concord, writes almost 
regretfully of the step which he is about to 
take, but which he feels will be an important 
mile-stone in his future life: 

'The landscape is so gentle and beautiful 
here, and I am so pleasantly situated with 
some old Brook Farm friends, hearty, homely 
and quiet people, that I am sorry my Summer 
is not to be passed here. Already I feel how 
sorry I shall be when I must really say Good- 
bye and separate from all I know, for even 
Burrill will not go with me, but has the best 
reasons for remaining in America. It will be a 
crisis in my life in various ways, and I have a 
singular curiosity about the influence of Europe 
upon myself. In the afternoons here, I have a 
good time reading Roman history, Niebuhr 

[34] 



CURTIS AND II AY 



and Arnold are both such generous, wise, and 
sincere men and Scholars, that I am borne 
swiftly along as on the charmed waters of a 
romance. Yet I am very glad I have had no 
thought of preparing to go, for I see very 
clearly, I should never have gone in that case. 
Association and art, and an indefinable in- 
dividuality of external Nature constitute my 
charm for Italy, and with a general reading 
one has all the material ready. As the time 
comes, it seems to me as if I looked more 
closely almost more tenderly upon our country 
here, the landscape I mean. Nature is such a 
splendid mute bride, whose lips we constantly 
watch expecting to see them overflow with 
music, with melodious explanations of all that 
her beauty has hinted and nourished. 

'You ask me to send you some poems but 
I have been idle. I have not caught many 
beautiful fancies that have flickered before me 
and which perhaps shone over treasure. But I 
look forward to a leisure abroad when these 
can all be resolved into form. In July I shall 
be in Providence and then I will read you what 
little I have written." 

On a peaceful Sunday afternoon, he writes 
of the beautiful June weather and the tranquil 
New England atmosphere, which he is about 
to relinquish; he picks up a volume of Whit- 
tier's poems which he says he generally has 

[ 35 1 



POE'S HELEN 



by him on Sundays, and, after closing it, pens 
a final message from Concord: 

"There is a Saxon purity (about Whittier) 
and the sadness of a strong man, without the 
least affectation, a strong man to whom life 
was filled with rich shadow, rather than a 
wide flowing sweet sunlight, which makes it 
in many respects the best volume of American 
Poetry. Did you know that Ida Russell is very 
intimate with Whittier, so that I have some- 
times heard that they were engaged. She 
pointed him out to me once, in an Anti-Slavery 
Convention. He is a thin man with a sad 
almost sharp face, and dark hair. He moved 
silently and lonelily among the crowd and 
seemed like a strain of his Poetry impersonized. 
Mr. Hawthorne told me that he came to see 
him once, and he was much pleased with his 
quiet manner. I have written to ask Mr. H. 
to go to Monadnock mountain with me this 
week, but I am afraid his duties, for he is a 
Custom house officer, will not permit. 

"Here I am at the end of my paper, and yet 
I could say a great deal more. I wish we were 
sitting together on some shady bank of the 
Seekonk, and gliding down the sunny hours, 
with conversation as simple and natural as its 
course, not so anxious for thought as gentle 
union with the feeling and the silence of the 
day. The Sabbath feeling, I shall not have in 

[ 36] 



CURTIS AND HAY 



Italy, that will be one of the great changes or 
the great losses. I shall go from Concord by 
the first of July and be in Providence a week 
or two afterwards. If you can, write, if not, 
farewell until I see you." 

In a note written just before his departure 
for Europe, he thanks Mrs. Whitman for all 
that she has been to him, and assures her that 
her strong words of encouragement have been 
the first to shed light upon his literary path. 
He concludes: 

"Good-bye, for that is all that I have to 
say, I owe you more than I can say. ... I 
shall write you from Italy, which sounds like 
a promise to address you from Paradise and 
the other world. Sometimes write me, Aunt 
E. will tell you how to address them. Farewell 
and may all good angels bless you." 

John Hay, who during his years at Brown 
University ranked among the brightest of the 
college men, entered with enthusiasm into 
the intellectual circle which Mrs. Whitman 
drew about her, and was deeply gratified by 
the interest which she took in his early poems. 

These he submitted in deep humility, regard- 
ing her with a kind of sacred awe, and in his 
letters addressing her as " Mrs. Whitman," in 
order to avoid seeming presumptuous. His ac- 

[ 37 1 



POE'S HELEN 



quaintance with her did not begin until toward 
the close of his college days and he later pro- 
tested: "If I had had the honor of knowing 
you earlier, I would have had less to regret in 
my collegiate course. " Hay dreamed at this 
time, that the career of the poet might be his, 
and turned reluctantly away from its allure- 
ments to the prosaic life of a Western town. 
After his departure from Providence, for the 
uncongenial atmosphere of Warsaw, Illinois, he 
sent back letters filled with regret for the life 
which he had relinquished and with expres- 
sions of gratitude for the inspiration which 
he had derived from his friends in Rhode 
Island. 

He writes on August 30, 1856: 

Warsaw, Illinois. 
Mrs. Whitman: 

You must have wondered at the time that 
has elapsed between my promise and its ful- 
fillment, if, indeed you ever gave the subject 
a thought, and have doubtless placed me in 
the category of those afflicted with the moral 
malady whose influence is so universal on 
College Hill, and dismissed me at once with 
the consideration that insincerity is the nor- 
mal condition of the student's mind and that 
my disorder has been heightened by a sudden 
removal to a region whose moral atmosphere 
was never remarkable for purity. . . . 

[ 38 1 



CURTIS AND HAY 



I very much fear that if I remain in the 
West, I will entirely lose all the aspirations I 
formerly cherished and see them fading with 
effortless apathy. Under the influence of the 
Boeotian atmosphere around me my spirit will 
be subdued to what it works in and my res- 
idence in the East will remain in memory an 
oasis in the desolate stretch of a material life. 
So before the evil days come on I cling more 
and more eagerly to the ties which connect 
me with Providence and civilization, and only 
hope those whose genius I have long admired 
and whose characters I lately learned to love, 
may not entirely cast me off but sometimes 
reach me a hand in the darkness, to raise and 
console. All the benefit would of course be 
confined to one party unless my friends belong 
to the class whom Theodore Parker mentioned, 
as ' having more joy in delighting than delight 
in enjoying/ If it would not be taxing your 
kindness too far I would be glad to send you 
other verses which I may hereafter write and 
beg the favor of your criticism upon them. 

Very sincerely, 

John Hay. 

The poems sent for her perusal were en- 
titled: "Last Night," "In the Mist," and 
another containing the refrain, "Is it well, 
Is it well, The living are mazed and the dead 
cannot tell." 

[ 39 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



In a subsequent letter he says: 

"It may seem a little to you to give a few 
words of generous praise to a moody boy or 
to send to an exile in the West, stray glimpses 
of the world he has left forever. But it is much 
to me that I once had the honor of writing 
lines which you thought it worth while to 
flatter. 

"On returning from a hunting excursion 
into the wilds of Missouri I found the papers 
you had sent awaiting me, and for several 
weeks I read repeatedly those beautiful de- 
scriptions trying to lay the foundations of 
mountains in my own soul and retouching 
with the colors of your fancy the picture of 
Niagara which was fading from memory. I 
have been very near to the valley of the shad- 
ow — I felt the deprivation keenly in the Fall 
when the woods were blazing with the Au- 
tumnal transfiguration and the nights slept 
tranced in the love of the harvest moon. I am 
now as well as usual. It is unpleasant to give 
up my dreams, but is it not necessary ? I would 
be very grateful to anyone who would prove 
it is not. Yet in spite of all the encroaching in- 
fluences of barbarism I still think of Providence 
with unabated affection and sigh for New 
England as a Peri for Paradise." 

Nora Perry, whose poem beginning: 

Tying her bonnet under her chin, 

She tied the young man's heart within, 

[ 40] 



CURTIS AND HAY 



first captured her public, was another member 
of this Providence coterie, and a close friend 
of Mrs. Whitman's, to whom she doubtless 
owed much in the field of letters. To Miss 
Perry, John Hay also wrote of his aspirations 
in the realm of poetry, enclosing verses for her 
inspection and exclaiming: "How glad I am 
that the world is learning to lpve Mrs. Whit- 
man as much as those who have sat at the feet 
of the revered Priestess. " 

This early enthusiasm was never wholly ob- 
literated, and Hay's biographer says of him: 
" Long afterward, when he appeared to 
strangers an accomplished man of the world, or 
when he staggered under the burdens of states- 
manship, he heard again, and thrilled to hear, 
the poetic voices which captivated his youth. 
So, at certain seasons, dwellers on the Breton 
coast hear the pealing of the bells of the city 
which the waves submerged long, long ago." 



[ 41 ] 



CHAPTER IV 
THE ROMANCE OF "THE RAVEN" 

IT has been said that the most memorable 
date in the history of Poe was that of 
January 29, 1845. Prior to that time his 
reputation had been purely local, but hence- 
forth it was destined to become world-wide. 

The success of "The Raven" first made him 
popular as a poet, and promptly resulted in a 
new collection of his verses. Poe's theory here 
set forth, that the death of a beautiful woman 
was the saddest and most poetical of all themes 
was repeatedly exemplified by him. "Annabel 
Lee," "Lenore," 'The Sleeper," "Ulalume," 
and "To One in Paradise," all testify to his 
fondness for this theme. 

'The Raven" was the instrument of fate 
which brought about Poe's romance with Mrs. 
Whitman, on whose imagination this poem 
made a deep impression, producing eventually 
a response from her pen. 

This response did not come until the winter 
of 1848, when Mrs. Whitman complied with the 
request of her friend Miss Lynch (afterward 
Mrs. Botta) to send a contribution to her 
"Valentine" party. A similar request had been 
already complied with during the previous 
year when Mrs. Whitman had forwarded some 

[ 42 ] 



7 1" A T » » 



ROMANCE OF "THE RAVEN 

sprightly verses which were read at one of 
the literary gatherings presided over by this 
clever hostess, whose drawing-room was prob- 
ably the nearest approach to the French salon 
ever achieved on this side of the water. 

On this occasion Miss Lynch had written 
in regard to her prospective party: 

"I still have my Saturday Evenings and 
they are often very pleasant, both the eve- 
nings and the company. There is sufficient in- 
fusion of new comers to keep them fresh, and 
enough of the regular corps to preserve very 
much of the same character. They cannot be 
called literary meetings so much as Social, 
though there are frequently a good many 
literary friends there. Last year on the eve- 
ning of Valentine's Day, which came on Satur- 
day, I had a Valentine party; that is there 
were valentines written for all present, mostly 
original, and in general merely complimentary 
verses. The best of them were selected and 
read, and some of them were afterwards pub- 
lished. I am going to have another this year, 
and now to come to the point — I wish to know 
if you will not help me." 

Miss Lynch enumerates some of the guests 
whom she expects to be present, among whom 
may be mentioned: N. P. Willis, Horace Gree- 
ley, Miss Sedgwick, Morris (who wrote "Wood- 
man, Spare that Tree"), Grace Greenwood, 
Bayard Taylor, Hart, the sculptor, Cassius 

[ 43 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



M. Clay, W. H. Furness, Margaret Fuller, and 
Charles A. Dana. 

In this letter the name of Poe is not referred 
to, although he frequently attended these liter- 
ary evenings; his wife, who was in failing health, 
seldom accompanied him. 

Mrs. Whitman's compliance with her friend's 
request called forth a second appeal the fol- 
lowing year, and on this occasion a poem ad- 
dressed to Edgar A. Poe was composed and 
forwarded to Miss Lynch. 

Although at this time Poe had never met 
Mrs. Whitman, he was already keenly inter- 
ested in her poetical work and in reports of 
her fascinating personality; moreover, he still 
cherished his romantic vision of her as she 
had appeared to him by moonlight. 

On her part, Mrs. Whitman had for some 
time been exceedingly interested in the work 
of Poe, which had from the first appealed 
strongly to her imagination, and to her fond- 
ness for the mysterious and psychological. 
Her own poetical work strongly reflects his 
influence, and suggests that native similarity 
in their points of view, which Mrs. Whitman 
ascribed to their descent from a common an- 
cestor. Moreover, prior to the Valentine party, 
Miss Lynch and others had made it plain to 
Mrs. Whitman that the eccentric genius, whose 
work she admired, was eagerly seeking her 
acquaintance. And an article by Poe on Eliza- 

[ 44 ] 




EDGAR ALLAN POE 
From a daguerreotype 



ROMANCE OF "THE RAVEN" 

beth Barrett, whose work he had been one of 
the first to extol, had been sent to Airs. Whit- 
man at his request. It was therefore not strange 
that she should have sat down to pen her 
response to "The Raven" with more than 
usual enthusiasm, thinking it not unlikely 
that Poe would be among her friend's guests 
on February 14. 

At the head of the famous valentine which 
was addressed "To Edgar Allan Poe," Mrs. 
Whitman quoted the lines from Young's "Re- 
venge." 

A Raven true as ever flapped his heavy wing against 
the window of the sick, and croaked, " Despair." 

The verses follow: 

Oh ! thou grim and ancient Raven, 
From the Night's Plutonic shore, 
Oft in dreams, thy ghastly pinions 
Wave and flutter round my door — • 
Oft thy shadow dims the moonlight 
Sleeping on my chamber floor. 

Romeo talks of "White doves trooping, 
Amid crows athwart the night"; 
But to see thy dark wing swooping 
Down the silvery path of light, 
Amid swans and dovelets stooping, 
Were, to me, a nobler sight. 

Oft amid the twilight glooming 
Round some grim ancestral tower 
In the lurid distance looming, 
I can see thy pinions lower, — 

[ 45 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Hear thy sullen storm-cry booming 
Thro* the lonely midnight hour. 

Oft this work-day world forgetting, 
From its turmoil curtained snug, 
By the sparkling embers sitting 
On the richly broidered rug, 
Something round about me flitting 
Glimmers like a " Golden Bug." 

Dreamily its path I follow, 
In a "'bee line" to the moon 
Till, into some dreamy hollow 
Of the midnight sinking soon, 
Lo ! he glides away before me 
And I lose the golden boon. 

Oft like Proserpine I wander 
On the Night's Plutonic Shore 
Hoping, fearing, while I ponder 
On thy loved and lost Lenore, 
Till thy voice like distant thunder 
Sounds across the distant moor. 

From thy wing, one purple feather 
Wafted o'er my chamber floor 
Like a shadow o'er the heather, 
Charms my vagrant fancy more 
Than all the flowers I used to gather 
On "Idalia's velvet shore." 

Then, Oh ! Grim and Ghastly Raven ! 

Wilt thou to my heart and ear 

Be a Raven true as ever 

Flapped his wings and croaked "Despair" ? 

Not a bird that roams the forest 

Shall our lofty eyrie share. 

Providence, R. L, Feb. 14, 1848. 

[ 46 ] 



ROMANCE OF "THE RAVEN" 

In writing to thank Mrs. Whitman for the 
valentine Miss Lynch declares: ''The verses 
are very happy and I am greatly indebted 
to you. . . . Poe I have seen nothing of for 
more than a year past." 

Later, she forwards an enthusiastic descrip- 
tion of the part_v, which went off with great 
eclat, the poem to Poe having received partic- 
ular appreciation. Miss Lynch hesitates in re- 
gard to giving the poem out for publication on 
account of Poe's unpopularity at that time. 
She writes: "I really do not think it would 
be any advantage to you to publish the valen- 
tine to Poe. Not because it is not beautiful 
in itself, but there is deeply rooted prejudice 
against him which I trust he will overcome. 
. . . I earnestly request you not to mention 
this because I have no quarrel with Poe, and 
admire his genius as much as any one can." 

Mrs. Whitman says of the valentine party: 

'The poem 'To the Raven' was one of a 
large number written by my sister and myself 
at the request of Miss Lynch, for a party given 
by her that year to the artists and literary 
people of New York. Among the best of the 
Valentines furnished by us was one to 'A 
City Pigeon/ Willis, and another 'To the 
Raven.' Mr. Poe having lost favor with many 
of the Literati was not, it seems, among the 
invited guests on that evening as we had sup- 
posed he would have been; but the anonymous 

[47] 



POE'S HELEN 



MS. verses were sent him by Miss Lynch 
through Mrs. Osgood. 

"He recognized the handwriting having two 
or three years before been shown by Miss 
Lynch some MS. verses I had sent her for the 
editor of the Democratic Review. 



)> 



Mrs. Whitman's valentine was eventually 
published in the Home Journal, and on March 
28, 1848, Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood wrote 
to its author: 

"I see by the Home Journal that your beau- 
tiful invocation has reached 'The Raven' in 
his eyrie and I suppose, ere this, he has swooped 
upon your little dove-cot in Providence. May 
Providence protect you if he has ! for his 
croak is the most eloquent imaginable. He is 
in truth 'A glorious devil, with large heart 
and brain/ Do write to me and tell me what 
you are doing in the literary way and how 
your health is now. As for me I have a ter- 
rible racking cough which is killing me by 
inches, and there are not many inches left 
now." 

That the poem was read and highly ap- 
preciated by Poe is evinced by a communica- 
tion written by him to his friend Miss Anna 
Blackwell in June of the same year, in which 
he says: 

[48 ] 



ROMANCE OF "THE RAVEN" 

My Dear Miss Blackwell: 

I fear you have been thinking everything 
ill of me, and especially that I lack common 
courtesy — since your letter of three weeks ago 
remains unanswered. . . . 

After discussing the publication of her book 
of poems, he adds: 

If there is any service I can render you, 
critically or otherwise, after issue of your book 
or before, command me without scruple. 

I would be gratified if you would reply to 
this note. How happens it that you have flown 
away to Providence ? or is this a Providential 
escape ? Do you know Mrs. Whitman ? I feel 
deep interest in her poetry and character. I 
have never seen her but once. Anne Lynch, 
however, told me many things about the 
romance of her character which singularly in- 
terested me and excited my curiosity. Her 
poetry is, beyond question, poetry — instinct 
with genius. Can you not tell me something 
about her — anything — everything you know — 
and keep my secret — that is to say, let no one 
know that I have asked you to do so ? May I 
trust you ? I can — and will. 

Believe me truly your friend 

Edgar A. Poe. 

Not long after the receipt of this letter Miss 
Blackwell visited Mrs. Whitman, and while at 
her house encountered Miss Maria Mcintosh, 

[49 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



whose literary work was well known at that 
time. It was a bright moonlight night, and dur- 
ing the conversation which ensued, the latter 
lady began to discourse about Poe to Mrs. 
Whitman, remarking: "On such a night as this, 
one month ago, I met Mr. Poe for the first time 
at the house of a gentleman in Fordham and 
his whole talk was of you." 

Upon hearing this statement Miss Black- 
well, with the true feminine relish for the 
romantic, could not refrain from admitting 
that she had in her possession a letter from 
the gentleman in question in which the same 
admiration was expressed. Having once 
launched the dangerous subject it was useless 
to attempt to comply with Poe's plea for 
secrecy, and the next step was the presenta- 
tion to Mrs. Whitman of the letter itself. 

That Miss Blackwell was not friendly toward 
Poe is later asserted by Mrs. Whitman, who 
writes : 

"Miss Blackwell was a fine French scholar 
and translated some of George Sand's early 
novels. She passed the summer of 1848 in 
Providence and told me many things of Poe 
before I knew him. She was of an austere, 
hard nature and did not seem to feel any 
special interest in Poe. She went to the country 
(near the home of Poe) for her health and 
seemed charmed with the neatness and order 
of the (Poe) household. She was not very 

[ So ] 



ROMANCE OF "THE RAVEN" 

gracious to me after she found that Poe was 
'infatuated' about me. And said many things 
to prejudice me against him. Nothing worse 
however than that he was utterly improvident 
and incapable of taking care of himself. But 
a most agreeable and high-bred gentleman 
nevertheless." 

The succeeding link in the chain, according 
to Mrs. Whitman's statement, was forged by 
herself in August of this year. Up to this time 
she had in no way acknowledged any of the 
various clippings or communications which had 
been sent her by Poe, and the result was that 
he, sensitive in regard to her unresponsiveness, 
had relinquished his efforts to get into com- 
munication with her; he had gone, early in 
the summer, to Richmond, where he was in- 
tent upon bending all his energies toward the 
establishment of a literary journal, which he 
hoped would prove superior to all others pub- 
lished in this country. 

Many conflicting statements have been put 
forth regarding Poe's stay in Richmond at 
this time, but Mrs. Whitman firmly believed 
that he then renewed his acquaintance with 
Mrs. Shelton, a widow, with whom he had 
been in love many years before, while living 
with his guardian, Mr. Allan. 

The death of his young wife in surroundings 
of much misery, and his own forlorn condition, 
had left Poe in a position where he was partic- 

[ 51 1 



POE'S HELEN 



ularly susceptible to sympathy and kindness, 
and was probably not averse to the thought of 
a comfortable home and freedom from finan- 
cial worry. Whether or not he had actually 
paid his addresses to Mrs. Shelton at this 
time, it is not unlikely that he was on the 
point of doing so when he received the long- 
awaited missive from Mrs. Whitman. Her 
response came in the form of a couple of verses 
which took up a refrain from his poem, "To 
Helen," and emphasized the words, "Beauty 
which is Hope." 

A low bewildering melody 

Is murmuring in my ear — 

Tones such as in the twilight wood 

The aspen thrills to hear 

When Faunus slumbers on the hill 

And all entranced boughs are still. 

The jasmine twines her snowy stars 

Into a fairer wreath — 

The lily through my lattice bars 

Exhales a sweeter breath — 

And, gazing on night's starry cope, 

I dwell with " Beauty which is Hope." 

On receipt of this communication Poe imme- 
diately left Richmond for New York where he 
obtained a letter of introduction to Mrs. Whit- 
man from his friend Miss Maria Mcintosh, 
and was soon on his way to Providence. 

Shortly before taking this trip, however, 
Poe took the precaution to send a communica- 

[ 52 ] 



ROMANCE OF "THE RAVEN" 

tion under an assumed name in order to as- 
certain whether Mrs. Whitman was then in 
Providence. 

This note was presumably the request of an 
autograph-hunter for that lady's autograph, 
and read as follows: 

New York— Sep. 8, '48 
Dear Madam — 

Being engaged in making a collection of 
autographs of the most distinguished American 
authors, I am, of course, anxious to procure 
your own, and if you would so far honor me 
as to reply, however briefly to this note, I 
would take it as a very great favor, 

Res'y. 

Yr. mo. od. st. 
Edward S. T. Grey. 
Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman. 

The writing in this letter is unlike Poe's 
other penmanship, and was undoubtedly al- 
tered to suit his purpose. 

That the note called forth a satisfactory 
response was proved by Poe's prompt appear- 
ance in Providence armed with the letter of 
introduction from Miss Mcintosh, which read: 

Dear Mrs. Whitman, 

This letter will be handed to you by Mr. 
Edgar A. Poe. He is already so well known to 

[ S3 1 ' 



POE'S HELEN 



you that anything more than the announce- 
ment of his name would be an impertinence 
from me. I feel much obliged to Mr. Poe for 
permitting me thus to associate myself with 
an incident so agreeable to both of you, as I 
feel persuaded your first meeting will prove. 

Your friend Dr. Channing is well, though 
much disappointed at not receiving the prom- 
ised letter from you. 

With sentiments of esteem believe me, 
dear Mrs. Whitman, 

Yrs. very truly 

M. J. McIntosh. 
New York 

Sept. 15th, 48. 

Following the presentation of this letter of 
introduction came the romantic courtship, the 
spirit of which is doubtless best expressed in 
those love-letters in which Poe poured out 
his feelings. 

The introduction to Mrs. Whitman has 
been characterized by Professor Harrison as 
opening the way for "a new canto in the elegy 
of his (Poe's) restless existence, accentuated 
in every stanza by pitiful and desperate epi- 
sodes due to broken resolutions. " 

The number of Poe's visits to Providence 
may not be accurately chronicled, but Mrs. 
Whitman has made a note of at least five so- 
journs of which the order and events are not 

1 54] 



ROMANCE OF "THE RAVEN" 

exactly known, and which culminated in the 
broken engagement, a conclusion which seemed 
to Mrs. Whitman's friends the only one pos- 
sible. 



[ 55 1 



CHAPTER V 
POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 

OF these remarkable productions. Pro- 
fessor Harrison has said: 
"One must turn to the most glow- 
ing letters of Abelard and Eloise, or to the 
'Sonnets from the Portuguese' for the fire, 
the urgency, and the consuming thirst to be 
loved that burn and glow in Poe's letters of 
this period, a period of new-risen hope, a resur- 
rection from a dead self, of rebirth into an 
existence that began to shimmer with the new 
leaves and new light of a dawning spring after 
the autumnal blasts and blight of the months 
just gone by. 

"The eager, tremulous, stormy joy of these 
new weeks and months is prophetic of the new 
Poe that was about to be born, or that might 
have been born, had not Disaster intervened 
here, as at every important crisis moment of 
the poet's life, and cried 'Halt V " 

The date of Poe's first love-letter to Mrs. 
Whitman, October I, 1848, testifies to the 
rapidity of his courtship, for hardly a fort- 
night had intervened between it and the 
letter of introduction penned by Miss Mcintosh, 
in New York. His siege laid to the heart had 

[ 56 ] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



been swift, impetuous and overwhelming, and 
though he had as yet elicited no satisfying 
response from Mrs. Whitman, it is evident 
that he had made a vivid impression upon 
her, and that she was deeply stirred by his 
magnetic personality. 

In reference to the opening of the corre- 
spondence Mrs. Whitman said subsequently: 

"He endeavored to persuade me that I 
could lift his life out of the torpor of despair 
which was enshrouding it, and give an in- 
spiration to his genius of which it had as yet 
exhibited no token. But notwithstanding the 
eloquence with which he urged his wishes and 
his hopes, I knew too well that I could not 
hope to exercise over him the power which he 
ascribed, I was moreover wholly dependent on 
my mother and her life was bound up in mine. 
In parting from him I told him that I would 
write him and tell him much that I could not 
then say to him. It was in reply to this letter 
of mine that I received the first of his letters.'' 

FORDHAM, 

Sunday night, Oct. I, 1848. 
I have pressed your letter again and again 
to my lips, sweetest Helen — bathing it in tears 
of joy, or of a "divine despair." But I — who so 
lately, in your own presence, vaunted the 
"power of words" — of what avail are mere 
words to me now ? Could I believe in the ef- 

[ 57 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



ficiency of prayers to the God of Heaven, I 
would kneel — humbly kneel — at this the most 
earnest epoch of my life — kneel m entreaty 
for words — but for words that should disclose 
to you — that might enable me to lay bare to 
you my whole heart. All thoughts — all pas- 
sions seem now merged in the one consuming 
desire — the mere wish to make you compre- 
hend — to make you see that for which there 
is no human voice — the unutterable fervor of 
my love for you — for so well do I know your 
poet-nature, oh Helen, Helen ! that I feel sure 
if you could but look down into the depths of 
my soul with your pure spiritual eyes you could 
not refuse to speak to me that, alas ! you still 
resolutely leave unspoken — you would love 
me if only for the greatness of my love. Is it 
not something in this cold, dreary world, to 
be loved? — Oh, if I could but burn into your 
spirit the deep and true meaning which I 
attach to those three syllables underlined ! — 
but, alas! the effort is all in vain and "I live 
and die unheard." 

When I spoke to you of what I felt, saying 
that I loved now for the first time, I did not 
hope you would believe or even understand 
me: but if, throughout some long dark summer 
night, I could have held you close, close to 
my heart and whispered to you the strange 
secrets of its passionate history, then indeed 
you would have seen that I have been far from 

[ 58 ] 



FOE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



attempting to deceive you in this respect. I 
could have shown you that it was not, and 
could never have been in the power of any 
other than yourself to have moved me as I 
am now moved — to oppress me with this in- 
effable emotion— to surround and bathe me 
in this electric light, illumining and enkindling 
my whole nature — filling my soul with glory, 
with wonder, and with awe. During our walk 
in the cemetery I said to you while the bitter, 
bitter tears sprang to my eyes — "Helen I love 
now — now for the first time and only time." 
I said this, I repeat, in no hope, that you could 
believe me, but because I could not help feel- 
ing how unequal were the heart riches we 
might offer each to each: — I, for the first 
time giving my all, at once, and forever, even 
while the words of your poem were yet ringing 
in my ears: 



Oh then, beloved, I think on thee 
And on that life so strangely fair, 

Ere yet one cloud of Memory 

Hath gathered in Hope's golden hair. 

I think on thee and that lone grave 
On the green hillside far away — 

I see the wilding flowers that wave 
Around thee as the night winds sway; 

And still, though only clouds remain 
On life's horizon, cold and drear, 

The dream of youth returns again 
With the sweet promise of the year. 

[ 59 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Ah Helen, these lines are indeed beautiful, 
beautiful — but their very beauty was cruelty 
to me. There seemed, too, so very especial a 
purpose in what you did. 

I have already told you that some few 
casual words spoken of you * [three words 
marked over and illegible] by Miss Lynch, 
were the first in which I heard you mentioned. 
She described you, in some measure, per- 
sonally. She alluded to what she called your 
"eccentricities" and hinted at your sorrows. 
Her description of the former strangely ar- 
rested, — her allusion to the latter enchained 
and riveted, my attention. She had referred 
to thoughts, sentiments, traits, moods which 
I knew to be my own, but which, until that 
moment, I had believed to be my own solely 
— unshared by any human being. A profound 
sympathy took immediate possession of my 
soul. I cannot better explain to you what I 
felt than by saying that your unknown heart 
seemed to pass into my bosom — there to dwell 
forever — while mine, I thought, was trans- 
lated into your own. From that hour I loved 
you. Yes, I now feel it was then — on that 
evening of sweet dreams — that the very first 
dawn of human love burst upon the icy night 
of my spirit. Since that period I have never 
seen or heard your name without a shiver, 
half of delight, half of anxiety. The impression, 

* Explanatory notes by Charlotte F. Dailey. 

[60] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



left, however, upon my mind by Miss Lynch 
(whether through my own fault or her design 
I knew not) was that you were a wife now and 
a most happy one, — and it is only within the 
last few months that I have been undeceived 
in this respect. For this reason I shunned your 
presence and even the city in which you lived — 
You may remember that once, when I passed 
through Providence with Mrs. Osgood [1845, 
in Mrs. Whitman's handwriting], I positively 
refused to accompany her to your house, and 
even provoked her into a quarrel by the ob- 
stinacy and seeming unreasonableness of my 
refusal. I dared neither go nor say why I could 
not. I dared not speak of you — much less see you. 

In regard to this visit to Providence Mrs. 
Whitman subsequently writes: 

'The night to which he alludes, when he 
passed through Providence with Mrs. Osgood, 
was I believe the night when he first saw me 
and recognized me through her description. 

"I was not ' wandering in a garden of roses' 
as Dr. Griswold has seen fit to describe me, 
but standing on the side-walk or in the open 
doorway of the house on that sultry 'July 
evening' when the poet saw me and 'dreamed 
a dream' about me which afterwards crystalized 
into immortal verse." 

Poe's letter continues: 

"For years your name never passed my 

[ 61 1 



POE'S HELEN 



lips, while my soul drank in, with a delirious 
thirst, all that was uttered in my presence 
respecting you. The merest whisper that con- 
cerned you awoke in me a shuddering sixth 
sense, vaguely compounded of fear, ecstatic 
happiness, and a wild, inexplicable sentiment 
that resembled nothing so nearly as conscious 
guilt. — Judge, then, with what wondering, 
unbelieving joy I received your well-known 
MS., the Valentine which first gave me to 
see that you knew me to exist. The idea of 
what men call Fate lost then for the first 
time, in my eyes, its character of futility. I 
felt that nothing hereafter was to be doubted, 
and lost myself for many weeks, in one con- 
tinuous, delicious dream, where all was a 
vivid yet indistinct bliss. Immediately after 
reading the Valentine, I wished to contrive 
some mode of acknowledging — without wound- 
ing you by seeming directly to acknowledge my 
sense — oh my keen — my profound — my exulting 
— my ecstatic sense of the honor you had con- 
ferred upon me. To accomplish, as I wished it, 
precisely what I wished, seemed impossible, 
however; and I was on the point of abandoning 
the idea, when my eyes fell upon a volume of 
my own poems; and then the lines I had 
written in my passionate boyhood* to the first 
purely ideal love of my soul — to Helen Stanard 

* Mrs. Whitman drew a line in the margin against this pas- 
sage. 

[ 62 ] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



of whom I told you — flashed upon my recol- 
lection. I turned to them. They expressed all — 
all that I would have said to you so fully, — so 
accurately — and so conclusively, that a thrill 
of intense superstition ran at once through 
my frame. Read the verses and then take into 
consideration the peculiar need I had, at the 
moment, for just so seemingly unattainable a 
mode of communicating with you as they 
afforded. Think of the absolute appositeness 
with which they fulfilled that need — express- 
ing not only all that I would have said of your 
person, but all that of which I most wished 
to assure you, in the lines commencing 'On 
desperate seas long wont to roam.' Think, too, 
of the rare agreement of name — Helen and 
not the far more usual Ellen — think of all those 
coincidences, and you will no longer wonder 
that, to one accustomed as I am to the Cal- 
culus of Probabilities, they wore an air of 
positive miracle. There was but one difficulty 
— I did not wish to copy the lines of my own 
MS. nor did I wish you to trace them to my 
volume of poems, I hoped to leave at least 
something of doubt on your mind as to how, 
why, and especially whence they came. And 
now, when on accidentally turning the leaf, 
I found even this difficulty obviated, by the 
poem happening to be the last in the book, 
thus having no letter-press on its reverse — I 
yielded at once to an overwhelming sense of 

[ 6 3 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Fatality. From that hour I have never been 
able to shake from my soul the belief that my 
destiny, for good or for evil, either here or 
hereafter, is in some measure interwoven with 
your own." * 

The poem 'To Helen" probably written 
while Poe was awaiting his commission as a 
cadet, is one of his earliest, as well as most 
charming lyrics: 

Helen, thy beauty is to me 
Like those Nicean barks of yore, 
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, 
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore 
To his own native shore. 

On desperate seas long wont to roam, 
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, 
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home 
To the glory that was Greece, 
And the grandeur that was Rome. 

Lo ! in yon brilliant window-niche 
How statue-like I see thee stand ! 
The agate lamp within thy hand, 
Ah ! Psyche, from the regions which 
Are holy Land ! 

Poe's letter to Mrs. Whitman continues: "Of 
course, I did not expect on your part any ac- 
knowledgement of the printed lines 'To Helen/ 
and yet, without confessing it even to myself, I 

* Mrs. Whitman drew a line in the margin against this pas- 
sage. 

[6 4 ] 



POPS LOVE-LETTERS 



experienced an undefinable sorrow in your 
silence. At length, when I thought you had time 
fully to forget me (if indeed you ever really re- 
membered) I sent you the anonymous lines in 
MS. I wrote them, first, through a pining, 
burning desire to communicate with you in 
some way — even if you remained in ignorance 
of your correspondent. The mere thought that 
your dear fingers would press — your sweet 
eyes dwell upon characters which I had penned 
— characters which had welled out upon the 
paper from the depths of so devout a love — 
filled my soul with rapture w T hich seemed then 
all sufficient for my human nature. It then ap- 
peared to me that merely this one thought in- 
volved so much of bliss that here on earth I 
could have no right ever to repine — no room 
for discontent. — If ever, then, I dared to picture 
for myself a richer happiness, it was always 
connected with your image in Heaven. But 
there was yet another idea which impelled 
me to send you those lines: — I said to myself — 
The sentiment — the holy passion which glows 
within my spirit for her, is of Heaven, heavenly, 
and has no taint of earth. Thus there must 
lie, in the recesses of her own pure bosom, at 
least the germ of a reciprocal love; and if this 
be indeed so, she w T ill need no earthly clew — 
she will instinctively feel who is her corre- 
spondent. In this case, then, I may hope for 
some faint token, at least, giving me to under- 

[ 6s ] 



POE'S HELEN 



stand that the source of the poem is known 
and its sentiments comprehended even if dis- 
approved. Oh God — how long— how long I 
waited in vain — hoping against Hope — until at 
length I became possessed with a spirit far 
sterner — far more reckless than Despair. — I 
explained to you, but without detailing the 
vital influence they wrought upon my for- 
tune — through singular additional yet seem- 
ingly trivial fatalities by which you happened 
to address your lines to Fordham in place of 
New York — by which my aunt happened to 
get notice of their being in the West Farms 
Post-Office — and by which it Happened that, 
of all my set of the Home Journal, I failed 
in receiving only that individual number which 
contained your published verses; but I have 
not yet told you that your MS. lines reached 
me in Richmond on the very day in which I 
was about to depart on a tour and an enter- 
prise which would have changed my very 
nature — fearfully altered my very soul — steeped 
me in a stern, cold, and debasing, although 
brilliantly gigantic ambition — and borne me 
'far, far away/ and forever from you, sweet, 
sweet Helen, and from this divine dream of 
your love." 

Around the above paragraph has been waged 
a controversy, as has been previously suggested, 
which even to-day remains unsettled. 

The first debatable point is whether Poe 

[66] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



was in Richmond at this exact time, as Mrs. 
Whitman, who placed implicit faith in his 
statements to her, always maintained, in the 
face of certain biographers, and of Mrs. Clemm, 
who insisted that "her Eddie" was "not in 
Richmond at this period." Subsequent investi- 
gation has, however, proved that Poe was then 
in Richmond in accordance with his assurance 
to Mrs. Whitman. 

The second debatable point is Poe's state- 
ment that, when he received Mrs. Whitman's 
manuscript lines, he was about to "embark 
upon an enterprise" that would have "borne 
him forever" from her. This enterprise was 
believed by Mrs. Whitman (as has been 
stated) to have been a renewal of his as- 
sociation with Mrs. Shelton, his early sweet- 
heart. 

Many investigators assert, however, that 
Poe did not see Mrs. Shelton at this time, and 
that she herself so declared, after his death. 
The conclusion therefore drawn by some 
biographers is that the "enterprise" was not 
matrimonial, but was either some business 
project or else the duel in which he had been 
on the point of engaging. 

Mr. J. R. Thompson's account of this affair 
was forwarded to Mrs. Whitman by a corre- 
spondent who had interviewed this gentleman, 
but in the light of careful scrutiny it seems to 
be only partially correct. 

[ 67 } 



POE'S HELEN 



This writer asserts: 

"One day in 1848, Poe came into Mr. 
Thompson's office in a state of great excite- 
ment, sat down and wrote a challenge, of 
which he requested Thompson to be the 
bearer. In answer to his friend's remonstrances 
Poe handed him a paragraph cut from the 
Examiner, then edited by Mr. Daniel, in which 
was published an account of Poe's reported 
marriage with Mrs. Whitman making some 
invidious comments upon the lady's temerity. 
Poe said he did not mind what was said of him 
but her name should not be dragged in. Daniel 
should not speak of her, and fight him he would ! 

"Thompson refused point blank to carry 
the challenge to the delinquent editor, at 
which Poe declared that he would go and 
cane him on the instant. 

"Thompson informed him that as Daniel 
went armed the chances were that he would 
be shot before he could chastise his opponent. 
But in spite of this warning Poe proceeded 
to interview Daniel, who succeeded in moli- 
fying his wrath and so no violence ensued; 
the paragraph was amicably explained and 
Poe announced to Thompson that he was 
going to Providence to be married to Mrs. 
Whitman." 

In reviewing this account in the light of 
further research it becomes evident that Poe 
was not likely to have talked of a "marriage" 

[ 68 ] 



FOE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



with Mrs. Whitman before the receipt of her 
first encouraging communication; and those 
that have referred to the files of the Examiner 
say that while a printed reference to the Poe- 
Whitman marriage did appear there, it was 
not until some time after the date of the chal- 
lenge. 

The most plausible explanation of the af- 
fair seems to be that Poe, whose enthusiasms 
were apt to be discussed freely, especially 
when he was a little exhilarated, may have 
discoursed to various friends upon his admira- 
tion for Mrs. Whitman; it is likely that his re- 
marks reached Daniel, who, having been as- 
sociated with the Whitman family, no doubt 
publicly aired his opinion regarding Poe's in- 
terest in that direction; it is known that Poe 
had already had some business disagreement 
with Daniel, and it is probable that the com- 
bination of circumstances enraged Poe to the 
point of his sudden outburst. 

Moreover, it is quite evident that it was not 
the receipt of any verses from Mrs. Whitman 
which prevented the duel, but the mollifying 
response of Daniel, so that it seems very ab- 
surd to suggest that this could have been the 
"enterprise" referred to. 

The most likely explanation seems to be 
that, without having seen Mrs. Shelton at this 
time, Poe had had his attention drawn to the 
advantages of renewing the old association and 



[ 6 9 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



was seriously thinking of doing so, just at the 
time when Mrs. Whitman's communication 
reached him. 

Yet Mrs. Whitman's version of the matter 
as written to Stoddard after the publication 
of an article by him in Harper's Magazine, may 
be worth repeating. And after its perusal the 
reader can decide who told the truth, Mrs. 
Whitman, Mrs. Shelton, or Poe ? She writes: 

"Mr. Poe received these lines" (the ones 
sent by her) "in Richmond where he had gone, 
as he afterward told me, in the hope of ob- 
taining subscribers for a magazine to be called 
the 'Stylus/ intending if successful to make a 
tour of the southern states before returning 
north. 

"During this visit to Richmond Mr. Poe 
had called on Mrs. Shelton, formerly Miss 
Royster, a lady whom he had admired in his 
youth while he was still under the guardian- 
ship of Mr. Allan, who had exerted his author- 
ity to break off the intimacy. 

"He told me that having been received by 
Mrs. Shelton with great kindness he was urged 
by one of their 'mutual friends' to renew his 
addresses to her. He confessed that he might 
have followed this advice had he not received 
the anonymous stanzas which brought him at 
once back to New York." 

Did Mrs. Whitman forget what had been 
told her by Poe ? Did Mrs. Shelton forget 

[ 70 ] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



when she renewed her acquaintance with Poe, 
or did Poe tell the story wrongly ? 

Poe's love-letter next sets forth his first 
impressions of Mrs. Whitman: 

"And now, in the most simple words at 
my command, let me paint to you the impres- 
sion made upon me by your personal presence. 
As you entered the room, pale, timid, hesitat- 
ing, and evidently oppressed at heart; as your 
eyes rested appealingly, for one brief moment, 
upon mine, I felt, for the first time in my life, 
and tremblingly acknowledged, the existence of 
spiritual influences altogether out of the reach 
of my reason. I saw that you were Helen — 
my Helen — the Helen of a thousand dreams 
— she whose visionary lips had so often lin- 
gered upon my own in the divine trance of 
passion — she whom the great Giver of all 
Good preordained to be mine — mine only — 
if not now, alas ! then at least hereafter and 
forever in the Heavens. You spoke falteringly 
and seemed scarcely conscious of what you 
said. I heard no words — only the soft voice, 
more familiar to me than my own, and more 
melodious than the songs of the angels. Your 
hand rested in mine, and my whole soul shook 
with a tremulous ecstasy. And then but for 
very shame but for fear of grieving or op- 
pressing you — I would have fallen at your 
feet in as pure — in as real a worship as was 
ever offered to Idol or to God. And when, after- 

1 71 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



wards, on those two successive evenings of 
all — Heavenly delights, you passed to and fro 
about the room — now sitting by my side, now 
far away, now standing with your hand resting 
on the back of my chair, while the preternat- 
ural thrill of your touch vibrated even through 
the senseless wood into my heart — while you 
moved thus restlessly about the room — as if 
a deep Sorrow or more profound Joy haunted 
your bosom — my brain reeled beneath the 
intoxicating spell of your presence [and it 
was with no human senses that I either saw 
or heard you. It was my soul only that dis- 
tinguished you there]. I grew faint with the 
luxury of your voice and blind with the volup- 
tuous lustre of your eyes. 

"Let me quote to you a passage from your 
letter: 

"'You will, perhaps, attempt to convince me 
that my person is agreeable to you — that my 
countenance interests you; — but in this respect 
I am so variable that I should inevitably disap- 
point you if you hoped to find in me to-morrow 
the same aspect which one knew to-day. And 
again, although my reverence for your intel- 
lect and my admiration of your genius make 
me feel like a child in your presence, you are 
not perhaps aware that I am many years 
older than yourself. I fear you do not know it, 
and that if you had known it you would not 
have felt for me as you do.' 

[ 72 ] 



POFS LOVE-LETTERS 



"To all this what shall I say — except that the 
heavenly candor with which you speak op- 
presses my heart with so rich a burden of love 
that my eyes overflow with sweet tears. You 
are mistaken, Helen, very far mistaken about 
this matter of age. I am older than you; and 
if illness and sorrow have made you seem 
older than you are — is not all this the best of 
reasons for my loving you the more ? Cannot 
my patient cares — my watchful earnest de- 
votion — cannot the magic which lies in such 
devotion as I feel for you, win back for you 
much — oh, very much of the freshness of your 
youth ? But grant that what you urge were 
even true. Do you not feel in that inmost 
heart of hearts that the ' soul-love' of which 
the world speaks so often and so idly is, in 
this instance at least, but the veriest the most 
absolute of realities ? Do you not — I ask of 
your reason, darling, not less than of your 
heart — do you not perceive that it is my 
diviner nature — my spiritual being — which 
burns and pants to commingle with your own ? 
Has the soul age, Helen ? Can immortality 
regard Time ? Can that which began never 
and shall never end, consider a few wretched 
years of incarnate life ? Ah, I could weep — I 
could almost be angry with you for the wrong 
you offer to the purity — to the sacred reality 
of my affection. And how am I to answer 
what you say of your personal appearance ? 

[ 73 1 



POE'S HELEN 



Have I not seen you, Helen ? Have I not heard 
the more than melody of your voice ? Has not 
my heart ceased to throb beneath the magic 
of your smile ? Have I not held your hand in 
mine and looked steadily into j^our soul through 
the crystal Heaven of your eyes ? Have I done 
all these things ? — or do I dream ? — or am I 
mad ? Were you indeed all that your fancy, 
enfeebled and perverted by illness, tempts you 
to suppose that you are, still, life of my 
life ! I could but love you — but worship you 
the more; it would be so glorious a happiness 
to prove to you what I feel ! But as it is, what 
can I — what am I to say ? who ever spoke of 
you without emotion — without praise who 
ever saw you and did not love ? But now a 
deadly terror oppresses me; for I clearly see 
that these objections — so groundless — so futile 
when urged to one whose nature must be so 
well known to you as mine is — can scarcely 
be meant earnestly; and I tremble lest they 
but serve to mask others, more real, and which 
you hesitate — perhaps in pity — to confide to 
me. Alas ! I too distinctly perceive also, 
that in no instance have you permitted your- 
self to say that you love me. You are aware, 
sweet Helen, that on my part there are in- 
superable reasons forbidding me to urge upon 
you my love. Were I not poor — had not my 
late errors and reckless excesses justly lowered 
me in the esteem of the good — were I wealthy, 

[74] 



POFS LOVE-LETTERS 



or could I offer you worldly honors — ah then — 
then — how proud would I be to persevere — to 
— to plead — to pray — to beseech you for your 
love — in the deepest humility — at your feet — 
at your feet, Helen, with floods of passionate 
tears. 

"And now let me copy here one other passage 
from your letter — 'I find that I cannot now 
tell you all that I promised. I can only say to 
you , ' , : [Here follow four lines of her letter 
obliterated, and two lines of his letter ob- 
literated. — C. F. D.*] "may God forever shield 
you from the agony which these your words 
occasion me! You will never, never know — you 
can never picture to yourself the hopeless, ray- 
less despair with which I now trace these words. 
Alas Helen ! my soul ! — what is it that I have 
been saying to you ! — to what madness have I 
been urging you ? I who am nothing to you — 
you who have a dear mother and sister to be 
blessed by your life and love. But ah, darling ! 
if I am selfish, yet believe me that I truly, 
truly love you, and that is the most spirit- 
ual of love that I speak, even if I speak it 
from the depths of the most passionate of 
hearts. Think — oh, think for me, Helen, and 
for" [The remainder of this page is cut ofT, 
and begins again upon the back. — C. F. D.*] 
"comfort you — soothe you — tranquilize you. 
My love — my faith should instil into your bosom 

* Note by Charlotte F. Dailey. 

[ 75 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



a preternatural calm. You would rest from 
care — from all worldly agitation. You would 
get better and finally well. And if not, Helen, 
if not — if you died — then at least I would 
clasp your dear hand in death, and willingly — 
oh, joyfully — joyfully — joyfully — go down with 
you into the night of the grave. 

"Write me soon — soon — ah soon— but not 
much. Be not weary or agitate yourself for 
my sake. Say to me those coveted words which 
would turn Earth into Heaven. " [The rest of 
the page is missing. — C. F. D.*] 

In reference to this impassioned communica- 
tion Mrs. Whitman asserted: 

"My answer to his letter, in which I gave 
him more explicitly the reasons for my refusal, 
drew from him the second letter in which he 
promises never again to ask me to be his wife." 

* Note by Charlotte F. Dailey. 



[76 ] 



p 



CHAPTER VI 

POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 

(continued) 

OE'S second love-letter to Mrs. Whit- 
man was dated October 18, 1848. He 
wrote: 



In pressing my last letter between your 
dear hands, there passed into your spirit a 
sense of the love that glowed within those 
pages: you say this, and I feel that indeed it 
must have been so: — but, in receiving the 
paper upon which your eyes now rest, did 
no shadow steal over you from the Sorrow 
within me ? Oh, God ! how I curse the im- 
potence of the pen — the inexorable distance 
between us ! I am pining to speak to you — 
Helen — to you in person — to be near you 
while I speak — gently to press your hand in 
mine to look into your soul through your 
eyes and thus to be sure that my voice passes 
into your heart. Only thus could I hope to 
make you understand what I feel; and even 
thus I should not hope to make you do so; 
for it is only Love which can comprehend 
Love — and alas ! you do not love me. Bear 
with me ! have patience with me ! for indeed 
my heart is broken; and let me struggle as I 

[ 77 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



will, I cannot write you the calm, cold language 
of a world which I loathe — of a world in which 
I have no interest — of a world which is not 
mine. I repeat to you that my heart is broken 
— that I have no farther object in life — that 
I have absolutely no wish but to die. These are 
hackneyed phrases; but they will not now 
impress you as such — for you must and do 
know the passionate agony with which I 
write them. "You do not love me" — in this 
brief sentence lies all I can conceive of de- 
spair. I have no resource — no hope; Pride itself 
fails me now. You do not love me; or you 
could not have imposed upon me the torture 
of eight days silence — of eight days terrible 
suspense. You do not love me — or, responding 
to my prayers you would have said to me — 
"Edgar I do." Ah, Helen, the emotion which 
now consumes me teaches me too well the 
nature of the impulses of love ! Of what avail 
to me in my deadly grief, are your enthusiastic 
words of mere admiration ? Alas ! Alas ! — I 
have been loved, and a relentless Memory 
contrasts what you say with the unheeded 
unvalued words of others. But ah — again, and 
most especially — you do not love me, or you 
would have felt too thorough a sympathy with 
the sensitiveness of my nature, to have so 
wounded me as you have done with this ter- 
rible passage of your letter: "How often I have 
heard men and women say of you — 'He has 

[ 78 ] 



FOE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



great intellectual power, but no principle — 
no moral sense/' Is it possible that such ex- 
pressions as these could have been repeated 
to me — to me — by one whom I loved — ah, 
whom I love — by one at whose feet I knelt — I 
still kneel — in deeper worship than ever man 
offered to God ? — And you proceed to ask me 
why such opinions exist. You will feel remorse 
for the question, Helen, when I say to you 
that, until the moment when those horrible 
words first met my eye, I would not have 
believed it possible that any such opinions 
could have existed at all: — but that they do 
exist breaks my heart and is separating us 
forever. I love you too truly ever to have 
offered you my hand — ever to have sought 
your love — had I known my name to be so 
stained as your expressions imply. Oh God ! 
what shall I say to you Helen, dear Helen ! — 
let me call you now by that sweet name, if I 
may never so call you again. — It is altogether 
in vain that I tax my Memory or my Con- 
science. There is no oath that seems to me so 
sacred as that sworn by the all-divine love I 
bear you. — By this love, then and by the God 
who reigns in Heaven, I swear to you that my 
soul is incapable of dishonor — that, with the 
exception of occasional follies and excesses 
which I bitterly lament, but to which I have 
been driven by intolerable sorrow, and which 
are hourly committed by others without at- 

[79] 



POE'S HELEN 



tracting any notice whatever — I can call to 
mind no act of my life which would bring a 
blush to my cheek — or to }^ours. If I have 
erred at all in this regard, it has been on the 
side of what the world would call a Quixotic 
sense of the honorable — of the chivalrous. 
The indulgence of this sense has been the 
true voluptuousness of my life. It was for this 
species of luxury that, in my early youth, I 
deliberately threw away from me a large for- 
tune, rather than endure a trivial wrong. It 
was for this that at a later period, I did vio- 
lence to my own heart, and married, for an- 
other^ happiness, where I knew that no pos- 
sibility of my own existed. Ah, how profound 
is my love for you, since it forces me into these 
egotisms for which you will inevitably despise 
me ! Nevertheless, I must now speak to you 
the truth or nothing. It was mere indulgence, 
then, of the sense to which I refer, that, at one 
dark epoch of my late life, for the sake of one 
who, deceiving and betraying, still loved me 
much, I sacrificed what seemed in the eyes of 
men my honor, rather than abandon what 
was honor in hers and in my own. — But, alas ! 
for nearly three years I have been ill, poor, 
living out of the world; and thus, as I now 
painfully see, have afforded opportunity to 
my enemies — and especially to one, the most 
malignant and pertinacious of all friends. — 
[The next line is entirely obliterated. — C. F. D.] 

[ so ] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



to slander me, in private society, without my 
knowledge, and thus with impunity. Although 
much, however, may (and I now see must) 
have been said to my discredit, during my 
retirement, those few who, knowing me well, 
have been steadfastly my friends, permitted 
nothing to reach my ears — unless in one in- 
stance, where the malignity of the accuser 
hurried her beyond her usual caution, and 
thus the accusation was of such a character 
that I could appeal to a court of justice for 
redress. The tools employed in this instance 
were Mr. Hiram Fuller, Mr. T. D. English. 
I replied to the charge fully, in a public news- 
paper — afterward suing the Mirror (in which 
the scandal appeared) obtaining a verdict and 
obtaining such an amount as, for the time, 
completely to break up that journal. And you 
ask me, why men so misjudge me — why I have 
enemies. If your knowledge of my character 
and of my career does not afford you an answer 
to the query, at least it does not become me 
to suggest the answer. Let it suffice that I 
have had the audacity to remain poor that 
I might preserve my independence — that, never- 
theless, in letters, to a certain extent and in 
certain regard I have been successful — that I 
have been a critic — an unscrupulously honest 
and in many cases a bitter one — that I have 
been uniformly attacked where I attacked at 
all — those who stood highest in power and in- 

[ 81 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



fluence — and that, whether in literature or in 
society, I have seldom refrained from express- 
ing, either directly or indirectly the pure con- 
tempt with which the pretensions of ignorance, 
arrogance, or hostility inspire me. — And you who 
know all this — you ask me why I have enemies. 
Ah, Helen, I have a hundred friends for every 
individual enemy — but has it never occurred 
to you that you do not live among my friends ? 
Miss Lynch, Miss Fuller, Miss Blackwell, 
Mrs. Ellet — neither these nor any within their 
influence, are my friends. Had you read my 
criticisms generally, you would see, too, how 
and why it is that the Channings — the Emer- 
son and Hudson coterie — the Longfellow clique, 
one and all — the cabal of the N. American 
Review — you would see why all these, whom 
you know best, know me least and are my 
enemies. Do you not remember with how deep 
a sigh I said to you in Providence — "My heart 
is heavy, Helen, for I see that your friends 
are not my own/' But the cruel sentence in 
your letter would not — could not so deeply 
have wounded me, had my soul first been 
strengthened by those assurances of your love, 
which I so wildly — so vainly — and, I now 
feel, so presumptuously entreated. That our 
souls are one, every line which you have ever 
written asserts — but our hearts do not beat 
in unison. Tell me, darling! to your heart has 
any angel ever whispered that the very noblest 

[ 82 ] 



POX'S EOl'E LETTERS 



lines in all human poetry are these — hackneyed 
though they be ! 

I know not — I ask not if guilt's in thy heart: — 
I but know that I love thee whatever thou art. 

When I first read your letter I could do 
nothing but shed tears, while I repeated again 
and again, those glorious, those all-compre- 
hensive verses, till I could scarcely hear my 
own voice for the passionate throbbings of 
my heart. 

Forgive me, best and only beloved Helen, 
if there be bitterness in my tone. Towards you 
there is no room in my soul for any other 
sentiment than devotion — it is Fate only I 
accuse: it is my own unhappy nature which 
wins me as the true love of no woman whom 
by any possibility I could love. 

I heard something, a day or two ago, 
which, had your last letter never reached me, 
might not irreparably have disturbed the rela- 
tions between us, but which, as it is, withers 
forever all the dear hopes upspringing in my 
bosom. A few words will explain to you what 
I mean. Not long after the receipt of your 
Valentine I learned, for the first time, that 
you w^ere free — unmarried. I will not pretend 
to express to you what is absolutely inexpres- 
sible — that wild — long-enduring thrill of joy 
which pervaded my whole being on hearing 
that it was not impossible I might one day call 

[ 8 3 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



you by the sacred title, wife: but there was 
one alloy to this happiness — I dreaded to find 
you in worldly circumstances superior to my 
own. Let me speak freely to you now, Helen, 
for perhaps, I may never thus be permitted 
to speak to you again — Let me speak openly — 
fearlessly — trusting to the generosity of your 
own spirit for a true interpretation of my 
own. I repeat, then, that I dreaded to find you 
in worldly circumstances superior to mine. 
So great was my fear that you were rich, or 
at least possessed of some property which 
might cause you to seem rich in the eyes of 
one so poor as I had always permitted myself 
to be — that, on the day I refer to, I had not 
the courage to ask my informant any ques- 
tions concerning you. I feel that you will 
have difficulty in comprehending me; but the 
horror with which, during my sojourn in the 
world, I have seen affection made the subject 
of barter, had, long since — long before my 
marriage — inspired me with the resolution 
that, under no circumstances, would I marry 
where " interest," as the world terms it, could 
be suspected as, on my part, the object of the 
marriage. As far as this point concerned your- 
self, however, I was relieved the next day, 
by an assurance that you were wholly de- 
pendent upon your mother. May I — dare I 
add — can you believe me when I say that this 
assurance was doubly grateful to me by the 

[ 8 4 ] 



POPS LOVE-LETTERS 



additional one that you were in ill health and 
had suffered more from domestic trouble than 
falls usually to the lot of woman ? and even 
if your faith in my nature is not too greatly 
tasked by such an assertion, can you forbear 
thinking me unkind, selfish, or ungenerous ? 
You cannot: but oh! the sweet dreams which 
absorbed me at once ! dear dreams of a de- 
votional care for you that end only with life — 
of a tender, cherishing, patient, solicitude 
which should bring you back, at length to 
health and to happiness — a care — a solicitude 
— which should find its glorious reward in 
winning me, after long years, that which I 
could feel to be your love ! without well under- 
standing why. I had been led to fancy you 
ambitious: perhaps the fancy arose from your 
lines: 

Not a bird that roams the forest 
Shall our lofty eyrie share ! 

but my very soul glowed with ambition for 
your sake, although I have always condemned 
it for my own. It was then only — then when 
I thought of you — that I dwelt exultingly 
upon what I felt that I could accomplish in 
Letters and in Literary Influence — in the 
widest and noblest field of human ambition. 

"I will erect," I said, "a prouder throne than 
any on which mere monarch ever sat; and on 
this throne she — she shall be my queen." When 

[ 8 S ] 



POE'S HELEN 



I saw you, however, — when I touched your 
gentle hand — when I heard your soft voice, 
and perceived how greatly I had misconceived 
your womanly nature — these triumphant visions 
melted sweetly away in the sunshine of a love 
ineffable; and I suffered my imagination to 
stray with you, and with the few who love 
us both, to the banks of some quiet river, in 
some lovely valley of our land. Here, not too 
far secluded from the world, we exercised the 
taste controlled by no conventionalities, but 
the sworn slave of a Natural Art, in the build- 
ing for ourselves a cottage which no human be- 
ing could ever pass without an ejaculation of 
wonder at its strange, weird, and incompre- 
hensible, yet most simple beauty. Oh, the 
sweet and gorgeous, but not often rare flow- 
ers in which we half buried it ! — the grandeur 
of the little-distant magnolias and tulip-trees 
which stood guarding it — the luxurious velvet 
of its lawn — the lustre of the rivulet that ran 
by the very door — the tasteful yet quiet com- 
fort of the interior — the music — the books — 
the unostentatious pictures — and, above all, 
the love — the love that threw an unfading 
glory over the whole ! Ah, Helen ! my heart is, 
indeed, breaking and I must now put an end 
to these divine dreams. Alas ! all is now a 
dream; for I have lately heard that of you 
which (taken in connection with your letter 
and with that of which your letter does not 

[86] 



POPS LOVE-LETTERS 



assure me) puts it forever out of my power to 
ask you — again to ask you — to become my 
wife. That many persons in your presence, 
have declared me wanting in honor, appeals 
irresistibly to an instinct of my nature — an 
instinct which I feel to be honor, let the dis- 
honorable say what they may, and forbids 
me, under such circumstances, to insult you 
with my love: — but that }'ou are quite inde- 
pendent in your worldly position (as I have 
just heard) — in a word that you are compara- 
tively rich while I am -poor, opens between us 
a gulf — a gulf, alas ! which the Sorrow and the 
slander of the world have rendered forever im- 
passable by me. 

I have not yet been able to procure all 
the criticisms, etc., of which you spoke, but 
will forward them by express, in a day or two. 
Meantime I enclose the lines by Miss Fuller; 
and "The Domain of Arnheim," which happens 
to be at hand, and which, moreover, expresses 
much of my soul. — It was about the ioth. of 
Sep., I think, that your sweet MS. verses 
reached me in Richmond. I lectured in Lowell 
on the ioth. of July. Your first letter was re- 
ceived by me at Fordham on the evening of 
Saturday Sep. 30. I was in Providence, or its 
neighborhood, during the Monday you men- 
tion. In the morning I revisited the cemetery — 
at 6 P. m. I left the city in the Stonington 
train for N. Y. I cannot explain to you — 

[ 87 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



since I cannot myself comprehend — the feeling 
which urged me not to see you again before 
going — not to bid you a second time farewell. 
I had a sad foreboding at heart. In the seclu- 
sion of the cemetery you sat by my side — on 
the very spot where my arm first tremblingly 
encircled your waist. 

Edgar. 

"Very soon after Poe's letter of Oct. 18, 
1848," wrote Mrs. Whitman, "and before I had 
replied to it, he came again to Providence. 
During this visit he told me much of his earlier 
life — much of his intimate history — and I be- 
came more and more deeply interested in him. 
He seemed to connect me strangely with his 
memories of Helen Stanard and often declared 
to me that he had known and loved me ages ago. 

"The name of Helen had a strange charm 
for him from an incident that happened in 
his boyhood. The mother of one of his school- 
mates, who had spoken a few kind words to 
the imaginative child, died suddenly and 
left a sweet and sorrowful memory in his 
heart that seems never to have faded. 

"I believe that the spirit of her who bore 
this beloved name, has always hovered around 
him, and that it was in some way, through her 
influence that he was drawn to me. You may 
think this fanciful, but many strange incidents 
suggestive of such psychal influences occurred 

[ 88 ] 



POE'S LOl'E-LETTERS 



to me at that period of my life. One evening, 
just after dusk, I went into a room dimly 
lighted by a coal fire. Poe was sitting dreamily 
musing by the fire-side. In a corner of the 
room hung an unframed picture painted on 
a very dark background. It was sketched for 
me many years ago by Giovanni Thompson, 
who married a sister of Mrs. Ritchie. As I 
entered the room Poe started up and said 
* Helen, I have had such strange dreams since 
I have been sitting here that I can hardly 
believe myself awake ! Your picture in this 
dim light looked so like the face of Robert 
Stanard that it startled me. You remember that 
he was the schoolmate of whom I have spoken 
to you, the son of Mrs. Helen Stanard whom 
I loved so well. I never noticed the resemblance 
before, but when you see him, as you one day 
will, you will see how strikingly this picture re- 
sembles him/ 

"Hanging as it did, in deep shadow the face 
might well have startled one on suddenly 
turning toward it, as something strange and 
fantastic, but the fact of the resemblance 
deeply impressed me in connection with my 
remembrance of the weird fantasies in some 
of his stories.* 

* It is impossible to ascertain how great the resemblance was 
which existed between Mrs. Whitman and Poe's schoolmate, 
but the portrait of Robert Stanard presented in the volume 
shows a certain marked similarity of feature. 



[ 89 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



"During this visit I promised him that 
I would write to him fully and definitely at 
Lowell, where he was going at the invitation 
of friends to deliver a lecture, having been 
invited to do so by persons who had heard 
him while he was in that city in the preceding 
June, or July. There was great excitement 
just then over the pending presidential election 
and the time was unfavorable to the pro- 
jected arrangements for a lecture." 

Mrs. Whitman delayed writing to Poe at 
Lowell, dreading to say the word which would 
separate them forever, and yet not being able to 
make up her mind to give him the desired an- 
swer. At last, she sent him an indecisive note 
to which he replied by the statement that he 
should be in Providence the following evening. 
On arriving, there, however, he did not see Mrs. 
Whitman, but, instead, journeyed on to Boston 
in a state of extreme depression which resulted 
in an attempt to commit suicide by taking a 
heavy dose of laudanum. 

This drug merely made him ill, and as soon 
as he was able to throw off its effect, he re- 
turned again to Providence, and on the morning 
of his arrival called on Mrs. Whitman; she was 
not prepared to see him at so early an hour, and 
sent him word that she would meet him at noon 
at the Athenaeum, which was a favorite resort of 
hers. 

There Poe and Mrs. Whitman subsequently 

[ 90 ] 




- ROBERT ST. 4. \'ARD 
Reproduced by permission of W. G. Steward 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



spent considerable time together, and the build- 
ing contains various reminders of them. Mrs. 
Whitman's portrait by Thompson hangs upon 
the walls, and among the fine examples of Mal- 
bone's work may be seen the beautiful min- 
iature of Nicholas Power, Mrs. Whitman's 
father. 

Among the Athenaeum's other treasures is a 
volume of Colton's American Review, for 1847, 
the December number of which contains the 
anonymous poem "Ulalume," with Edgar Allan 
Poe's signature attached. It is said that Mrs. 
Whitman, who was at the time of the incident 
engaged to Poe, asked him one day when they 
were together in the Athenaeum, if he had read 
this poem, and if he knew the author ? He sur- 
prised her by acknowledging that he had writ- 
ten it, and then taking up the library copy of 
the magazine he signed his name at the end of 
the poem. 

In response to Mrs. Whitman's suggestion 
that he meet her at the Athenaeum, on the oc- 
casion in question, Poe writes that he is ill and 
unable to keep such an appointment: 

Dearest Helen: 

I have no engagement, but am very ill — 
so much so that I must go home, if possible — 
but if you say "stay," I will try to do so. If 
you cannot see me — write me one word to say 
that you do love me and that under all cir- 

[ 91 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



cumstancesy you will be mine. Remember that 
these coveted words you have never yet spoken 
— and, nevertheless, I have not reproached 
you. It was not in my power to be here on 
Saturday as I proposed, or I would undoubt- 
edly have kept my promise. If you can see me, 
even for a few moments do so — but if not 
write — or send some message which will com- 
fort me. 

Tuesday Nov. 7. 

Edgar Poe to S. H. W. 

j6 Benefit St. — Providence. 

As a result of his having taken the dose of 
laudanum, Poe remained for some days in a very 
excitable state, and it was during the remainder 
of this stay in Providence that the scenes took 
place which Mrs. Whitman describes as follows: 

"In an interview with Mr. Poe some three 
or four weeks previous to his lecture before 
the Lyceum, he had vehemently urged me to 
an immediate marriage. As an additional 
reason for delaying a marriage which, under 
any circumstances, seemed to all my friends 
full of evil portents, I read to him some pas- 
sages from a letter which I had recently re- 
ceived from one of his New York associates. 
He seemed deeply pained and wounded by the 
result of our interview, and left me abruptly 
saying that if we met again, it would be as 
strangers. He did not return to New York, 

[92 1 



POPS LOVE-LETTERS 



but passed the evening in the bar-room of his 
hotel." 

Mrs. Whitman then explains that although 
far from being in a normal condition on the 
following morning, he was persuaded to have 
his picture taken at that time, which doubtless 
accounted for the look of dissipation depicted 
on his countenance in the daguerreotype then 
produced. 

She goes on to say: 

"A gentleman by the name of MacFarlane, 
who had been very kind to him during the 
night and who had become greatly interested 
in him, persuaded him to go with him in the 
morning to the office of Masury and Hart- 
shorn where the daguerreotype of which I 
have spoken so often was taken. Poe was 
moody and silent w T hile there. Soon after he 
left the office he came alone to my mother's 
house in a state of wild and delirious excite- 
ment calling upon me to save him from some 
terrible impending doom. The tones of his 
voice were appalling and rang through the 
house. Never have I heard anything so awful, 
awful even to sublimity. 

"It was long before I could nerve myself to 
see him. My mother was so much moved by 
his suffering that she urged me to soothe him 
by promising all that he might require of me. 

"After he had been in the house (my mother 
was with him) more than two hours, I entered 

[ 93 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



the room. He hailed me as an angel sent to 
save him from perdition, and once when my 
mother requested me to have a cup of coffee 
prepared for him, he clung to my dress so 
frantically as to tear away a piece of the muslin 
I wore. In the afternoon he grew more com- 
posed and my mother sent for Dr. A. H. Okie 
(the same who wrote the paragraphs I sent 
from the Providence Journal signed 'Medicus,' 
in reply to Fairfield's epileptic theory) who 
advised his being taken to the house of his 
friend W. J. Pabodie where he was most kindly 
cared for. 

"Of course gossip held high carnival over 
these facts, which were told doubtless with 
every variety of sensational embellishment and 
illustration." 

Poe's next letter is written on November 14, 
1848, just after leaving Providence, at which 
time he had obtained Mrs. Whitman's con- 
sent to a conditional engagement: 

My Dearest Helen: 

So kind, so true, so generous ( — so un- 
moved by ail that would have moved one who 
had been less an angel — beloved of my heart, 
of my imagination, of my intellect, life of my 
life, soul of my soul) — dear, dearest Helen, 
how shall I ever thank you as I ought — I am 
calm and tranquil and but for a strange shadow 
of coming evil which haunts me I should be 

[94] 



FOE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



happy. That I am not supremely happy, even 
when I feel your dear love at my heart terri- 
fies me. What can this mean ? Perhaps, how- 
ever, it is only the necessary reaction after 
such terrible excitements. 

It is five o'clock and the boat is just being 
made fast at the wharf. I shall start in the train 
that leaves New York at 7 for Fordham. I 
write this to show you that I have not dared 
to break my promise to you. And now, dearest 
Helen, be true to me. 

[A postscript was originally affixed to this 
letter in which Poe made grateful acknowl- 
edgment of Mr. William J. Pabodie's kind- 
ness to him during his recent illness in Prov- 
idence. Mr. Pabodie borrowed the letter after 
Mrs. Whitman had made a transcript of the 
above portion of it and afterward told her 
that he had either lost or mislaid it.] 

Poe's next communication was penned on 
November 22: 

Wednesday Morning 
My Dearest Helen — Last Monday I re- 
ceived your note, dated Friday, and promising 
that on Tuesday I should get a long letter 
from you. It has not yet reached me, but I 
presume will be at the P. O. when I send this 
in — In the mean time I write these few words 
to thank you from the depths of my heart, 

[ 95 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



for the dear expressions of your note — expres- 
sion of tenderness so wholly undeserved by 
me— and to assure you of my safety and 
health. The terrible excitement under which I 
suffered, has subsided, and I am as calm as I 
well could be, remembering what is past. 
Still the Shadow of Evil haunts me, and al- 
though tranquil, I am unhappy. I dread the 
Future — and you alone can reassure me. I 
have so much to say to you, but must wait 
until I hear from you. My mother was de- 
lighted with your wish to be remembered and 
begs me to express the pleasure it gave her. 

Forever your own, 

Edgar. 



[96] 



CHAPTER VII 

POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 
(concluded) 

IN his next letter Poe pours out his heart 
to his betrothed upon the subject of 
Mrs. Ellet, who seems to have deserved 
all the charges brought against her. During 
Poe's life she never ceased to vent her animos- 
ity upon him, and after his death she con- 
tinued to exercise her ingenuity in undermin- 
ing his reputation. For some time, she exerted 
considerable influence over Griswold, but hav- 
ing lost her ascendancy over him she turned 
against him and did everything in her power 
to injure him and make his last days miserable, 
inflicting upon him the retribution which, his 
record seems to prove, was only too well earned. 

In Poe's sixth letter, which was written to 
Mrs. Whitman on Friday, November 24, he 
exclaims: 

"In a little more than a fortnight, dearest 
Helen, I shall once again clasp you to my 
heart: until then I forbear to agitate you by 
speaking of my wishes — of my hopes, and 
especially of my fears. You say that all de- 
pends on my own firmness. If this be so, all 
is safe — for the terrible agony known only to 

[ 97 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



my God and to myself — seems to have passed 
my soul through fire and purified it from all 
that is weak. Henceforward I am strong:-— 
this those who love me shall see — as well as 
those who have so relentlessly endeavored to 
ruin me. It needed only some such trial as I 
have just undergone., to make me what I was 
born to be, by making me conscious of my 
own strength. — But all does not depend, dear 
Helen, upon my firmness — all depends upon 
the sincerity of your love. 

'You allude to having been * tortured by re- 
ports which have all since been explained to 
your entire satisfaction/ On this point my 
mind is fully made up. I will rest neither by 
night nor by day until I bring those who have 
slandered me into the light of day- — until I 
expose them, and their motives to the public 
eye. I have the means and I will ruthlessly 
emplo}^ them. On one point let me caution 
you, dear Helen. No sooner will Mrs. Ellet 
hear of my proposals to yourself, than she 
will set in operation every conceivable chican- 
ery to frustrate me: — and, if you are not pre- 
pared for her arts, she will infallibly succeed — 
for her whole study, throughout life, has been 
the gratification of her malignity by such 
means as any other human being would die 
rather than adopt. You will be sure to receive 
anonymous letters as skilfully contrived as 
to deceive the most sagacious. You will be 

[98 ] 



FOE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



called on, possibly, by persons whom you 
never heard of, but whom she has instigated 
to call and vilify me — without their being 
aware of the influence she has exercised. I do 
not know any one with a more acute intellect 
about such matters as Mrs. Osgood — yet even 
she was for a long time completely blinded by 
the arts of this fiend, and simply because of her 
generous heart could not conceive how any 
woman could stoop to machinations at which 
the most degraded of the fiends would shudder. 
I will give you here but one instance of her 
baseness and I feel that will suffice. When, in 
the heat of passion — stung to madness by her 
inconceivable perfidy and by the grossness of 
the injury which her jealousy prompted her 
to inflict upon all of us — upon both families — • 
I permitted myself to say what I should not 
have said — I had no sooner uttered the words, 
than I felt their dishonor. I felt, too that, 
although she must be damningly conscious of 
her own baseness, she would still have a right 
to reproach me for having betrayed, under 
any circumstances, her confidence. Full of 
these thoughts, and terrified almost to death 
lest I should again, in a moment of madness, 
be similarly tempted, I went immediately to 
my secretary — (when these two ladies* went 
away) — made a package of her letters, ad- 
dressed them to her, and with my own hand 

*Miss Lynch and Margaret Fuller. 

[ 99 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



left them at her door. Now Helen, you cannot 
be prepared for the diabolic malignity which 
followed. Instead of feeling that I had done 
all I could to repair an unpremeditated wrong — 
instead of feeling that almost any other person 
would have retained the letters to make good 
(if occasion required) the assertion that I pos- 
sessed them — instead of this, she urged her 
brothers and brother-in-law to demand of me 
the letters. The position in which she thus 
placed me you may imagine. Is it any wonder 
that I was driven mad by the intolerable sense 
of wrong ? If you value your happiness, Helen, 
beware of this woman. She did not cease her 
persecutions here. My poor Virginia who was 
continually tortured (although never deceived) 
by her anonymous letters, on her death-bed 
declared that Mrs. Ellet had been her mur- 
derer. Have I not the right to hate this fiend 
and caution you against her ? You will now 
comprehend what I mean in saying that the 
only one thing for which I found it impossible 
to forgive Mrs. Osgood was her reception of 
Mrs. Ellet." 

In reference to this episode which caused 
the breaking off of Poe's association with Mrs. 
Osgood, Mrs. Whitman says: "Certain benevo- 
lent ladies, friends of the invalid wife, were in 
the habit of visiting the cottage in Fordham 
and ministering to the comfort of the family. 
One of these ladies chanced to see there an 

[ ioo ] 



FOE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



open letter written by Mrs. Osgood which was 
thought to be of a compromising character. 
She called on Mrs. Osgood, remonstrated with 
her on her imprudence, prevailed upon her to 
break off the correspondence, and obtained 
her consent that a committee of ladies should 
demand in her behalf the return of the letters. 
Margaret Fuller, the late Countess D'Ossoli, 
was I believe one of the ladies who undertook 
the commission, and Miss Anna C. Lynch, 
now Mrs. Botta, was another; it was from her 
that I received the account I am giving you, 
but the instigator of the movement w^as a ' dis- 
tinguished lady of South Carolina' (Mrs. Ellet). 

"The ladies preceded to Fordham and pre- 
sented their credentials. Whereupon the poor 
Raven driven to desperation ruffled his black 
plumes and denounced the fair ambassadresses 
as busybodies adding injury to insult by saying 
that Mrs. Ellet had better look to her own 
letters. Now this was very indiscreet and 
very reprehensible and nobody knew this 
better than himself." 

Mrs. Whitman pronounces the story which 
had been circulated, of Poe's borrowing money 
from the same lady and refusing to pay until 
forced by the lady's brother, absolutely "in- 
credible." There was, she thinks, something 
for which Poe reproached himself, and which 
may have given rise to the "perfidious story." 

Mrs. Whitman in a subsequent communica- 

[ IOI ] 



POE'S HELEN 



tion describes Mrs. Ellet, "whose name," she 
says, "you will find in the Encyclopedia of 
Literature, and in Poe's i Literati/ which 
though apparently correct in its estimates of 
her intellectual efforts apparently betrays the 
hostility and resentment of the writer. . . . 
The lady is, or was rather unpopular in New 
York though she has some friends who speak 
of her as enterprising and efficient in inaugurat- 
ing public and private readings, for charitable 
purposes. She commenced a correspondence 
with me two or three years after Poe's death. 
It was in reference to matters in no way con- 
nected with him, but it soon ceased." 

Undoubtedly Mrs. Ellet exercised consider- 
able influence over Griswold at one period 
when she persuaded him to allow her to oc- 
cupy a desk in his office, where she might carry 
on her literary work and collaborate with him; 
it has been recorded, however, that after Gris- 
wold had discovered her in the act of read- 
ing over his private letters, he ordered her to 
relinquish the post assigned her, as well as the 
latch-key which had been put at her disposal. 
That she afterward pursued Griswold with her 
hatred has been frequently recorded, and it 
was well known to the public of her day that 
after Griswold's marriage to his third wife, she 
brought charges against him to prove that his 
divorce from his second wife was illegal. Gris- 
wold finally issued a printed pamphlet in which 

[ 102 ] 



FOE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



he denounced her and endeavored to justify 
his own conduct. 

Poe's tribute to Mrs. Ellet in "The Literati," 
exhibits his attitude toward her, and probably 
did something to increase her animosity toward 
him. He wrote: 

"She has been long before the public as an 
author. . . . She first made her debut as the 
writer of 'Teresa Contarini/ a five act tragedy, 
which had considerable merit, but was with- 
drawn after its first night's representation at 
the Park. . . . The ill success of the play had 
little effect in repressing the ardor of the poetess, 
who has since furnished numerous papers to 
the magazines. . . . Her articles are for the 
most part in the refacimento way, and although 
no doubt composed in good faith, have the 
disadvantage of looking as if hashed up for 
just as much money as they will bring. The 
charge of wholesale plagiarism, which has been 
adduced against Mrs. Ellet, I confess that I 
have not felt sufficient interest in her works to 
investigate, and am therefore bound to be- 
lieve it unfounded. ... In person, short and 
much inclined to embonpoint." 

Whatever may have been this lady's manners, 
or morals, and no matter how fiercely she may 
have exercised her animosity toward Poe, it is 
evident that his discouraging critique did not 
dampen her enthusiasm for literary production; 
for years she continued to produce voluminous 

[ 103 ] 



POFS HELEN 



works composed of eulogistic descriptions of 
famous women of ancient and modern times; 
among these books may be mentioned one 
called "Queens of American Society," in the 
pages of which, it may be noticed, she did not 
include those rivals in the literary world who 
had aroused her enmity. In the course of an 
introduction to one of these books she says: 

"Should the perusal of my book inspire with 
courage and resolution any woman who aspires 
to overcome difficulties in the achievement of 
honorable independence, or should it lead to 
a higher general respect for the powers of 
women among those destined for position in 
the realm of art, my object will be accom- 
plished." 

If one glances through a few pages devoted 
to the consideration of all the noblest qualities 
of womanhood, which Mrs. Ellet was prone to 
attribute to her heroines, one can but wonder 
that her own methods were not materially influ- 
enced by this association. But judging from the 
data which are extant, the author of "Queens 
of Society" was far from queenly in her methods 
of procedure. 

An example of her literary integrity was 
brought to public notice in 1868, when she sold 
to the Harpers a story of Western life entitled 
"Mary Nealy"; this, upon later examination, 
proved to be an almost exact transcription of 
a story entitled "Mary Spears," which she had 

[ 104 ] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



sold to the Putnams in 1853. This lady died 
on June 3, 1877. 

Poe's association with Margaret Fuller, who 
was one of the group that visited him at Ford- 
ham, was hardly a pleasing one, and her at- 
tempt to break up his friendship with Mrs. 
Osgood was keenly resented by him. Her in- 
clination to be both aggressive and opinionated 
did not commend itself to his fancy, and it is 
recorded that on certain occasions when they 
met in company the sparks flew between them. 
Upon one special evening Poe came gallantly 
into the conversational breach to rescue a 
young author, whom Miss Fuller was annihilat- 
ing with extreme scorn. Poe with a few strong 
and pointed remarks, destroyed the effect of 
the learned lady's eloquence, much to her dis- 
comfort, and probably to the secret satisfac- 
tion of the assembled company, for some one 
present whispered: "The Raven has perched 
upon the casque of Pallas, and pulled all of 
her feathers out of her cap." 

Poe, having recounted to Mrs. Whitman his 
experience with his feminine persecutors, closes 
his letter with a reference to the treatment that 
he has received from Mrs. Whitman's mother 
and sister, who have made their opposition quite 
plain to him: 

Be careful of your health, dearest Helen, and 
perhaps all will yet go well. Forgive me that 

[ 105 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



I let these wrongs prey upon me — I did not so 
bitterly feel them until they threatened to 
deprive me of you. I confess too, that the in- 
sults of your mother and sister still rankle at 
my heart but for your dear sake I will endeavor 
to be calm. 

Your lines "To Arcturus" are truly beauti- 
ful. I would retain the Vergilian words — omit- 
ting the translation. The first note leave out: — 
61 Cygni has been proved nearer than Arc- 
turus and Alpha Lyrae is presumably so. — 
Bessel, also, has shown 6 other stars to be 
nearer than the brighter one of this hemisphere 
— There is obvious tautology in "pale candes- 
cent." To be candescent is to become white 
with heat. Why not read — "To blend with thine 
its incandescent fire ? " Forgive me sweet Helen, 
for these very stupid and captious criticisms. 
Take vengeance on my next poem. When 
"Ulalume"* appears, cut it out and enclose 
it: — newspapers seldom reach me. In last 
Saturday's Home Journal is a letter from M. C. 
(who is it ?) I enclose a passage which seems 
to refer to my lines: 

— the very roses' odors 
[Died in the arms of the adoring airs.] 

The accusation will enable you to see how 
groundless such accusations may be, even when 

* This refers to a reprint of the poem which had been 
first issued in 1847. 

[ 106 ] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



seemingly best founded. Mrs. H.'s book was 
published 3 months ago. You had my poem 
about the first of June — was it not ? 

Forever your own Edgar. 
Remember me to Mr. Pabodie — Mrs. Bur- 
gess and Mrs. Newcomb. 
Fordham, 

November 24th, 1848. 

Poe's reference to Mrs. Whitman's poem, 
"To Arcturus," may be supplemented by the 
author's own account of it. Mrs. Whitman 
wrote to her friend Davidson: 

"The lines, as published in the Winnsboro* 
paper, you will find in Graham s Magazine 
for 1850. As you may infer from the poem, 
Poe regarded this star with peculiar interest. 
One evening in the autumn of 1848, just as he 
was leaving the city for his home near New 
York, he said something to me about Arcturus 
which I promised to remember in looking at it. 

"An hour or two after he left the city certain 
reports were communicated to my family in 
relation to him which augmented almost to 
a frenzy my mother's opposition to the rela- 
tion then subsisting between us. Yet at part- 
ing he had won from me a rash promise that 
nothing I might hear to his discredit from 
others should induce me to break the con- 
ditional promise I had given him. During the 
painful scenes which followed, which I would 

[ 107 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



if possible banish forever from my remem- 
brance, I chanced to look towards the western 
horizon and saw there Arcturus shining re- 
splendently through an opening in the clouds, 
while of all the neighboring constellations, I 
could see only Orpheus, in the head of the 
serpent, still glimmering near with a pale and 
sickly lustre. 

"To my excited imagination everything at 
that time seemed a portent or an omen. I had 
been subjected to terrible mental conflicts, 
and was but just recovering from a painful 
and dangerous illness. That night, an hour 
after midnight, I wrote, under a strange acces- 
sion of prophetic exaltation, the lines 'To 
Arcturus' 'written in October.' The words from 
Virgil occurred to my mind, and were prefixed 
to them; though why I should have then 
thought them appropriate I cannot tell. I 
only remember that as I repeated the Latin 
words they had a sound so majestic so ex- 
ultant so full of solemn and triumphant au- 
gury that the remembrance of it, even now, 
fills me with mystic joy. In the spring of 1850, 
after Edgar's death, I wrote the additional 
lines and sent them to Graham's Magazine, 
where they were published under my signature 
in the following June." 



[ 108 ] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



ARCTURUS 
(Written in October.) 

"Our star looks through the storm" 

Star of resplendent front ! thy glorious eye 
Shines on me still from out yon clouded sky, — 
Shines on me through the horrors of a night 
More drear than ever fell o'er day so bright, — 
Shines till the envious Serpent slinks away, 
And pales and trembles at thy steadfast ray. 

Hast thou not stooped from heaven, fair star ! to be 

So near me in this hour of agony ? — 

So near, — so bright, — so glorious, that I seem 

To lie entranced as in some wondrous dream, — 

All earthly joys forgot, — all earthly fear, 

Purged in the light of thy resplendent sphere: 

Kindling within my soul a pure desire 

To blend with thine its incandescent fire, — 

To lose my very life in thine, and be 

Soul of thy soul through all eternity. 

1849. 

The second poem "To Arcturus" (written 
in April) opens with the stanza: 

Again, imperial star ! thy mystic beams 

Pour their wild splendors on my waking dreams, 

Piercing the blue depths of the vernal night 

With opal shafts and flames of ruby light; 

Filling the air with melodies, that come 

Mournful and sweet, from the dark, sapphire dome, — 

Weird sounds, that make the cheek with wonder pale, 

As their wild symphonies o'er sweep the gale. 

[ IO9 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Two days after Poe's previous letter he 
forwarded the following communication to 
Mrs. Whitman: 

Sunday evening 26. 

I wrote you yesterday, sweet Helen, but, 
through my fear of being too late for the mail 
omitted some things I wish to say. I fear too, 
that my letter must have seemed cold — per- 
haps even harsh or selfish — for I spoke nearly 
altogether of my own griefs. Pardon me, my 
Helen, if not for the love I bear you, at least 
for the sorrows I have endured — more, I be- 
lieve, than have often fallen to the lot of man. 
How much have they been aggravated by my 
own consciousness that, in too many instances, 
they have arisen from my own culpable weak- 
ness or childish folly ! — my sole hope now, is in 
you, Helen. As you are true to me or fail me, 
so do I live or die. 

I forgot to enclose your poem and do so 
now. Why have you omitted the two forcible 
lines — 

While in its depths withdrawn, far, far away, 
I see the dawn of a diviner day ? 

— is that dawn no longer perceptible ? 

Who wrote the verses signed "Mary," I 
am unable to say. 

Can you solve the riddle of the poem en- 
closed ? It is from last Saturday's Home Jour- 
nal. Somebody sent it to me in MS. 

[ no] 



POPS LOVE-LETTERS 



Was I right, clearest Helen, in my first 
impression of you ? — you know I have implicit 
faith in first impressions. Was I right in the 
idea I had adopted before seeing you — in the 
idea that you were ambitious ? If so, and if 
you will have faith in me y I can and will satisfy 
your wildest desires. It would be a glorious 
triumph, Helen, for us — for you and me. I 
dare not trust my schemes to a letter — nor, 
indeed, have I room even to hint at them 
here. When I see you I will explain all — as 
far, at least, as I dare explain all my hopes 
even to you. 

Would it not be "glorious," darling, to 
establish in America, the sole unquestionable 
aristocracy — that of intellect — to secure its 
supremacy — to lead and control it ? All this 
I can do, Helen, and will — if you bid me — 
and aid me. 

I received yesterday a letter from Mr. 
Dunnell. He says that they have 'lost' their 
lecturer for the 6th. prox. and offers me that 
night instead of the 13th. I have written him, 
however, that I cannot be in Providence be- 
fore the 13th. 

My kindest regards to Mr. Pabodie. 

Devotedly — 

[To this letter Mrs. Whitman adds "signa- 
ture and postscript cut out to give to James 
T. Fields, 1865.] 

[ in ] 



POE'S HELEN 



a P. S. — Preserve the printed lines. I send 
the MS. — Perhaps you may recognize it. As 
one of the signs of the times I notice that 
Griswold has lately copied my Raven in his 
Hartford Weekly Gazette — I enclose his edi- 
torial comments so that you have quite a 
budget of enclosures." 

[A second postscript follows.] 

"P. S. — I open this letter, dearest love, to 
ask you to mail me, as soon as possible, three 
articles of mine which you will find among the 
critical papers I gave you — viz: 'The Philos- 
ophy of Composition' — Tale Writing — Nathl. 
Hawthorne — and a review of Longfellow's 
poems. I wish to refer to them in writing my 
lecture and can find no other copies. Do not 
fail to send them dear — dear Helen, as soon 
as you get this. Enclose them in a letter — so 
that I may be sure to get them in season. 

"Mrs. B's Tda Grey' is in Graham for Au- 
gust— 45." 

Poe's next letter to Mrs. Whitman bears 
the date (added in her handwriting), of De- 
cember 17, 1848. 

Prior to this time, the impassioned court- 
ship had progressed rapidly, and Poe's dreams 
of a speedy marriage seemed likely to be 

[ 112 ] 



POE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



realized. Despite the opposition of her mother 
and sister, a reluctant consent had been wrung 
from Mrs. Whitman, who while acceding to 
her tempestuous wooer yet realized the rash- 
ness of her decision. 

Among Mrs. Whitman's papers was found 
the request from Poe for the publication of 
the bans of marriage between the two, which 
read : 

Will Dr. Crocker have the kindness to 
publish the banns of matrimony between 
Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman and myself, on 
Sunday and on Monday. When we have de- 
cided on the day of the marriage we will in- 
form you, and will thank you to perform the 
ceremony. 

Respy yr. St 

Edgar A. Poe. 

On December 15 a contract was drawn up 
in the interest of Mrs. Whitman's mother and 
sister, who, having failed to break up the 
match, had doubtless insisted that some ar- 
rangement should be made by which Poe 
should be prevented from having any claim 
upon the family income. In this paper Mrs. 
Whitman relinquished her share of the estate 
from the date of her intended marriage. The 
document is as follows: 

[ U3 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Contract Concerning Marriage between Poe 
and Mrs. Whitman 

Providence Dec. 15, 1848 
To Charles F. Tillinghast Administrator with 
the will annexed of the estate of Ruth Marsh 
late of Providence. 

You are hereby required in conformity to 
the provisions of the will of the above named 
Ruth Marsh to pay to me the Subscriber the 
Whole of the Estate of the said Ruth Marsh 
now in your possession or control — the said 
Estate consisting of Bank Stocks and Notes 
as follows namely 

Fifteen Shares of the Merchants Bank 



Ten 


do 


Globe 


Five 


do 


Blackstone Canal Bank 


Six 


do 


Exchange 



William H. Cooke's Note for One Thousand 
dollars. 

Talman & Bucklin's Note for Two Thousand 
dollars. 

Benjamin Allen: Notes for Eight Hundred & 
Eighteen dollars. 

Weston A. Fisher's Note for Fifteen Hundred 
dollars. 

[ 114 ] 



FOE'S LOVE-LETTERS 



All of which Notes are secured by Mortgage 
of Real Estate. Anna Power. 

Edgar A. Poe. 

Signed this fifteenth day of December 1848 
In presence of 

Henry Martin 
William J. Pabodie. 

Providence December 15, 1848 
We Sarah Helen Whitman and Susan Anna 
Power legatees named in the will of the with- 
in named Ruth Marsh and to whom such part 
of the principal or Interest of the Estate of 
the said Ruth Marsh as shall remain undis- 
posed of at the decease of our mother the 
within named Anna Power is given hereby 
unite in the preceding request of Anna Power 
that the whole of the Estate of the said Ruth 
Marsh now in his possession be transferred 
to our said mother for her own use. And in 
consideration of such conveyance to be made by 
him we hereby release him the said Charles F. 
Tillinghast from all claims and demands which 
we have or may have on account of the said 
Estate of the said Ruth Marsh. 

In witness whereof we have hereto set our 
Hands and Seals the fifteenth of day of Decem- 

4 ' Sarah Helen Whitman [L. S.] 
Susan Anna Power [L. S.] 

In presence of Henry Martin. 

[ 115 1 



POE'S HELEN 



Whereas a Marriage is intended between 
the above named Sarah H. Whitman and the 
Subscriber Edgar A. Poe. — I hereby approve 
of and assent to the transfer of the property 
in the manner proposed in the papers of which 
the preceding are copies — 

Providence, December 22, 1848. 

Edgar A. Poe. 
In presence of William J. Pabodie. 

At this point in the courtship the outlook 
for the contracting parties can hardly be 
pronounced a hopeful one. Poe was exceedingly 
poor, and Mrs. Clemm, his Virginia's mother, 
was wholly dependent upon him, while visions 
of his tragic struggle with poverty and sickness 
prior to his young wife's death, still haunted 
him cruelly. His betrothed, who was about to 
relinquish her modest income, was afflicted 
with heart-disease, and shrank from undue 
exertion and excitement. She dreaded "scenes," 
and suffered acutely from the opposition of 
her mother and sister. Although naturally of 
a romantic disposition, she had arrived at an 
age when her emotions were not likely to 
dominate her actions completely. And it is 
doubtful if she ever really believed that the 
marriage with Poe would take place. 

Poe's next letter shows that his recent ex- 
perience with his prospective mother-in-law 
still rankles in his heart. He writes: 

[ n6 ] 



yy^fl&XA. J, 'Wvvi^- ^cw*. ^vV)» £«jum. Ott«^i>€«C, 







FACSIMILE OF LEFTER WRITTEN BY FOE FO MRS. WHITMAN 



POPS LOVE-LETTERS 



My Own Dearest Helen — Your letters — 
to my mother and myself — have just been re- 
ceived, and I hasten to reply, in season for this 
afternoon's mail. I cannot be in Providence 
until Wednesday morning; and, as I must try 
and get some sleep after I arrive, it is more 
than probable that I shall not see you until 
about 2 P. m. Keep up heart — for all will go 
well. My mother sends her dearest love and 
says she will return good for evil and treat 
you much better than your mother has treated 
me. 

Remember me to Mr. P. and believe me 

Ever your own 

Edgar. 

Thus ended Poe's last love-letter to Mrs. 
Whitman, w r ritten shortly before the breaking 
off of the engagement. 

That he fully expected that the wedding 
ceremony w T as about to be performed is reg- 
istered in a brief note to Mrs. Clemm, which 
reads: 

My Own Dear Mother — We shall be mar- 
ried on Monday, and will be at Fordham on 
Tuesday, in the first train. 



[ 117] 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT AND 
POE'S DEATH 

WITH the forwarding of the brief mes- 
sage to Mrs. Clemm, "We shall be 
married on Monday," Poe seemed 
very near that goal, the attainment of which 
might have changed the whole trend of his 
career. This marriage would have brought him 
an intellectual mate, who would have striven 
earnestly to aid him in the fulfilment of his 
highest possibilities, for in this inspirational 
quality Mrs. Whitman excelled. 

While she could hold her faith in Poe's re- 
generation through her influence, Mrs. Whit- 
man was willing to disregard the strenuous in- 
terference of her family and friends, but with 
the knowledge of Poe's failure to keep his 
pledge to her, came the conviction of the hope- 
lessness of her endeavor to lift him from the 
depths where he was sinking deeper and deeper. 
Anxiety for their financial welfare did not dis- 
tress her, for she firmly believed that her own 
life was very near its close; she felt that death 
was soon to separate her from those whom she 
loved, and was content to dedicate her failing 
strength to the redemption of one whose mag- 

[ 118 ] 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

netic personality had awakened in her the 
strongest emotion of her life. 

In her own words, Mrs. Whitman has graph- 
ically set forth the final interview with Poe, at 
which her mother and Mr. Pabodie were pres- 
ent; and Mr. Pabodie has also left on record his 
account of the affair, in which he seems to have 
played no unimportant part. 

On this occasion Poe had come to Providence 
to lecture upon "American Poetry" before the 
Lyceum, where he was received by an audience 
of tw T o thousand persons, and it was during 
this stay in the city that he succeeded in obtain- 
ing Mrs. Whitman's consent to an immediate 
marriage. He stopped at the Earl House where, 
according to Pabodie, he became acquainted 
with a set of somewhat dissipated young men, 
who repeatedly invited him to drink with them. 
On the third or fourth night after his lecture he 
came to Mrs. Whitman's house in a state of 
partial intoxication; he was not either excitable 
or talkative but merely showed that he had been 
drinking. 

The following morning he was exceedingly 
remorseful and was profuse in his apologies. 
He wrote, upon that day, the note to Doctor 
Crocker requesting him to publish the intended 
marriage, intrusting this note to Pabodie, who 
undoubtedly took charge of it with the convic- 
tion strong in his mind that circumstances 
would shortly arise to prevent its delivery. 

[ 119 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



It has been stated that during the afternoon 
of the day in question much pressure was 
brought to bear on Mrs. Whitman to break 
off the match, and it is probable that Pabodie, 
when he accompanied Poe to the lady's house 
on that second evening, was well assured that 
no stone had been left unturned to convince 
Mrs. Whitman of the folly of continuing the 
engagement. 

The scene which ensued has been often de- 
scribed. Mrs. Whitman herself quite ill, and 
worn out by worry and argument, returned to 
Poe certain letters and papers, then dropping 
upon a couch and placing a handkerchief 
drenched in ether to her face she relapsed into 
a semiconscious state. 

Poe fell upon his knees beside her and con- 
tinued his protestations, begging her to recon- 
sider and to speak to him. 

Finally in response to his appeals for a 
reply, she murmured: "What can I say?" 

"Say that you love me, Helen !" 

She answered: "I love you," these being the 
last words that she ever addressed to him. 

In the meantime Mrs. Power had taken the 
situation into her own hands, and while her 
daughter lay half fainting upon the lounge, she 
freely expressed her mind to Poe, not mincing 
her words or sparing her opponent because of 
his literary genius. The exact substance of her 
remarks has never been divulged, but it is re- 

[ 120 ] 




MRS. NICHOLAS POWER 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

corded that at their close she reminded Poe 
that the New York train left at a not-far-dis- 
tant hour. 

Then Poe, turning to his friend Pabodie, ex- 
claimed: 

"Mr. Pabodie you hear how I am insulted, " 
and, taking the other's arm, quickly left the 
house. 

"Poe returned to New York that evening," 
wrote Mrs. Whitman subsequently, "in the 
Stonington Express train, accompanied to the 
cars by Mr. Pabodie, who with my mother was 
present at our last interview. 

"Of course the incident caused a great deal 
of gossip and the wildest and most exaggerated 
stories were in circulation concerning the break- 
ing of the engagement and his reported expul- 
sion from the house. 

"Three weeks after his return to Fordham he 
wrote me a letter filled with expressions of 
wounded feeling and bitter indignation against 
my family (to whom he probably attributed 
these exaggerated and injurious stories) and 
entreated me by the love that had subsisted be- 
tween us to write him at once to assure him that 
I, at least, had not authorized their circulation. 

"Dreading that an answer to this letter might 
lead to a renewal of the harrowing scenes I had 
passed through I did not reply to it. 

"I was utterly hopeless of my power to sus- 
tain or comfort him. I longed to assure him of 

[ 121 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



my unalterable interest in his welfare and happi- 
ness but I dared not incur the consequences of 
further direct communication with him. ,, 

Of Poe's last letter to Mrs. Whitman only a 
fragment is presented in the collection issued 
by the University of Virginia, but it is certain 
that Mrs. Whitman gave Ingram an almost com- 
plete copy, which he inserted in his "Memoir" 
with but a few omissions. 

This letter which follows, was received in 
January and must have been the communication 
which Poe enclosed in a letter to his friend, Mrs. 
Richmond, asking her first to read it and then 
to forward it to Mrs. Whitman. 

"No amount of provocation shall induce me 
to speak ill of you, even in my own defense. 
If to shield myself from calumny, however un- 
deserved, or however unendurable, I find need 
of resorting to explanations that might con- 
demn or pain you, most solemnly do I assure 
you that I will patiently endure such calumny, 
rather than avail myself of any such means of 
refuting it. You will see, then, that so far I 
am at your mercy — but in making you such 
assurances, have I not a right to ask of you 
some forbearance in return ? . . . That you 
have in any way countenanced this pitiable 
falsehood, I do not and cannot believe — some 
person, equally your enemy and mine, has been 
its author — but what I beg of you is, to write 
me at once a few lines in explanation — you 

[ 122 ] 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

know, of course, that by reference either to 
Mr. Pabodie or ... I can disprove the facts 
stated, in the most satisfactory manner — but 
there can be no need of disproving what I feel 
confident was never asserted by you — your 
simple disavowal is all that I wish. You will, of 
course, write me immediately on receipt of this. 
. . . Heaven knows that I would shrink from 
wounding or grieving you ! I blame no one but 
your mother. Mr. Pabodie will tell you all. May 
Heaven shield you from all ill ! . . . Let my let- 
ters and acts speak for themselves. It has been 
my intention to say simply that our marriage 
was postponed simply on account of your ill 
health. Have you really said or done anything 
which can preclude our placing the rupture on 
such footing ? If not, I shall persist in the state- 
ment and thus the unhappy matter will die 
quietly away." 

In the letter to "Annie" (Mrs. Richmond), 
to whom this was enclosed, Poe writes that he 
has been deeply wounded by the cruel state- 
ments about himself which she had quoted in 
a previous letter to him as purporting to come 
from Mrs. Whitman and her friends. He says 
that it is inevitable that " 'her jriends" should 
speak ill of him but evidently doubts that Mrs. 
Whitman herself has done so. His excitable 
nature is stirred by what has been repeated, 
and he desires to prove to "Annie" that Mrs. 
Whitman has not been disloyal to him; this he 

[ 123 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



presumably thinks will be conclusively settled 
by his allowing her to see both his own letter 
and the looked-for reply. 

Viewed in the light of the knowledge of Poe's 
impulsive and excitable temperament this letter 
to "Annie" does not carry the weight or sig- 
nify the disloyalty on his part to Mrs. Whit- 
man that some critics seem to have assigned it. 
The tone of bravado which he assumes in the 
same letter in assuring "Annie" of his present 
happiness and his greatly increased literary 
success, is suggestive of a mood of violent re- 
action from his late suffering and chagrin. And 
the resentment which rankles deeply breaks 
forth in his closing lines: 

"Rest assured, 'Annie/ from this day forth 
I shun the pestilential society of literary women. 
They are a heartless, unnatural, venomous, 
dishonorable set, with no guiding principle but 
inordinate self-esteem. Mrs. Osgood is the only 
exception I know. ... I have had a distress- 
ing headache for the last two weeks." 

It is easy to imagine that this letter and vari- 
ous others which first came to Mrs. Whitman's 
knowledge long after Poe's death should have 
grieved her exceedingly. 

Her reasons for not replying to Poe's letter 
were no doubt reinforced by the action of her 
mother and sister, who probably did every- 
thing in their power to prevent the reopening of 
the Poe correspondence. It is certain, however, 

[ 124 ] 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

that Mrs. Whitman was in her heart troubled 
by the thought that she had vouchsafed no 
answer to Poe's last appeal, and her subsequent 
publication of the verses, entitled "Our Island 
of Dreams," indicates clearly that she was de- 
sirous that Poe should know that she still truly 
cared for him. 

In a second communication written by Poe 
to "Annie" a few weeks after the former one, 
he remarks: "I have got no answer yet from 
Mrs. Whitman. . . . My opinion is that her 
mother has intercepted the letter and will never 
give it to her. . . ." 

A month later Poe says in the course of an- 
other letter to "Annie": "I wish you would 
write to your relation in Providence and ascer- 
tain for me who slandered me as you say — I 
wish to prove the falsity of what has been said 
(for I find that it will not do to permit such 
reports to go unpunished), and especially, ob- 
tain for me some details upon which I can 
act. . . ." 

The failure of Poe to receive the looked-for 
response from Mrs. Whitman probably con- 
tinued to rankle keenly in his heart, and he 
doubtless allowed himself to voice his resent- 
ment in occasional bitter remarks, some of 
which were bound to make their way back to 
Providence through the instrumentality of ever- 
alert friends. One of these was Mrs. Locke, 
who having previously fallen out with Poe, 

[ 125 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



endeavored to retaliate through Mrs. Whitman. 
Of this lady Mrs. Whitman writes to a friend: 

"In the spring of 1849 Mrs. Locke wrote to 
me expressing an earnest wish to make my ac- 
quaintance. I received many urgent invita- 
tions to visit her. I promised to spend a few 
day's with her in May, fixing the day. I went 
and liked her and her husband very much. 
After I had spent a few days with her I began 
to suspect that she hoped to pique the ' Raven' 
by exhibiting me as her guest or perhaps bring 
about a reconciliation with him through my 
means. At any rate she told me as an induce- 
ment for me to prolong my stay a day or so 
after the time fixed for my departure, that she 
had taken care that he should hear of my visit 
and she had reason to think he would be in 
Lowell during the time appointed for my stay. 
My heart thrilled at the thought of seeing him 
again but I could not accept her request. 

"We passed each other on the road. I did not 
know it until a letter from Mrs. Locke informed 
me of the fact. If you were not such a sceptic as 
to spiritual or magnetic phenomena I could tell 
you of a strange incident which happened as the 
two trains rushed past each other between Bos- 
ton and Lowell. " 

In writing to Mrs. Clemm of Mrs. Locke 
Mrs. Whitman says: 

"Her object in seeking my acquaintance was 
unquestionably to prevent my renewal of my 

1 126 ] 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

correspondence with Mr. Poe, by whom she 
conceived herself to have been deeply wronged. 
During the summer of 1849, I received many 
letters from her in which there were frequent 
allusions to the subject that so deeply engrossed 
her feelings. I saw, however, that she was too 
much under the influence of wounded pride to 
exercise a calm judgment in the matter, and 
said but little in reply to her representations. 
After Mr. Poe's death she wrote to me to say 
that he had spoken disrespectfully of me to his 
friends in Lowell. In reply I made no allusion 
whatever to the paragraph in question. In her 
next letter she repeated the assertion. I passed 
it in silence as before. She then came to Provi- 
dence and passed a night with me. On her at- 
tempting to introduce the subject which she 
had so often touched upon in her letters I in- 
terrupted her by saying that I did not wish to 
listen to any charges against one whose mem- 
ory was dear and sacred to me, — that if false 
they could not now be refuted, — if true, I could 
understand and forgive them. . . . 

"I fear from her own confessions, that she 
has sometimes used my name very unwarrantably 
to endorse her own opinions of Mr. Poe's char- 
acter. In a letter to Mr. Willis, written about 
the time of Edgar's death, she ventured to do 
so — citing me as authority for some impressions 
which she entertained with regard to his moral 
character. I wrote Miss Lynch at the time, 

[ 127 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



requesting her to set Mr. Willis right on the 
matter, but as some coolness then existed be- 
tween Miss Lynch and myself I am ignorant 
whether the request was ever complied with." 

Mrs. Whitman was still turning over in her 
mind the possibility of addressing to Poe some 
final response, which she felt he properly de- 
served, when a demand reached her for a poem 
from Israel Post, who was about to issue in 
New York the first number of the American 
Metropolitan Review. 

Shortly before the breaking of the engagement 
Poe had suggested that she send the lines "To 
Arcturus" to the opening number of this period- 
ical, for which she understood he was to furnish 
book reviews; he had copied the lines in his 
own handwriting for this purpose, but after the 
severing of the relations the publication of this 
poem seemed inappropriate and Mrs. Whitman 
says of the incident: 

"The editor wrote to remind me of my prom- 
ise and to say that the magazine was just going 
to press. I found in a hurried search among my 
manuscripts and papers a copy of unpublished 
'Stanzas for Music/ written several years before 
as an accompaniment to an Italian air for the 
Guitar. Here was an indication of what Mac- 
beth calls 'fate and metaphysical aid.' I saw 
that Poe might interpret the last verse as a 
response to the entreaty made me in the letter 
which I had not dared to answer. 

f 128 ] 









Q*A) ^*^ u^c^i_ rLuz. -fc% -^Jy ^ct^fi™^] -z^y~ 
<^Sc/aZZ7 fr^cC jtt^toiX^ Jfa-t^i*. az. sto~^y jv£* 

FACSIMILE OF ORIGIN, I L MANUSCRIPT OF MRS. WHITMAN'S 
POEM "ARCTURUS" 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

"I sent the stanzas to Mr. Post and they ap- 
peared in the February number, which did not 
come out, I think, until the middle of March, 
when the publisher failed and the magazine 
was discontinued. 

"I cannot doubt that these words were re- 
ceived by Poe as a peace-offering to his wounded 
and outraged feelings, nor can I doubt that in 
writing 'Annabel Lee/ the strange sweet song 
so charming in spite of its vagueness and ob- 
scurity, that he intended I should read in it 
the veiled expression, visible to no eyes but 
mine, of his undying remembrance. . . . 

"I had not seen these verses for years, and 
as I then re-read them they sounded so strangely 
sweet and mournful, so expressive of all that 
I would have wished to say . . . that I sent 
them without venturing to give them a second 
look. 

"I transcribe to you from memory a copy of 
my verses published in the American Metro- 
politan Review." 

OUR ISLAND OF DREAMS 

Tell him I lingered alone on the shore, 

Where we parted, in sorrow, to meet nevermore; 

The night wind blew cold on my desolate heart, 

But colder those wild words of doom, "Ye must part ! " 

O'er the dark, heaving waters, I sent forth a cry; 
Save the wail of those waters there came no reply. 

[ 129 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



I longed, like a bird, o'er the billows to flee, 

From our lone island home and the moan of the sea: 

Away—far away — from the wild ocean shore, 
Where the waves ever murmur, "No more, never more"; 
Where I wake, in the wild noon of midnight, to hear 
That lone song to the surges, so mournful and drear. 

When the clouds that now veil from us heaven's fair light, 
Their soft, silver lining turn forth on the night; 
When time shall the vapors of falsehood dispel, 
He shall know if I loved him; but never how well. 

1849. 

Mr s.Whit man goes on to affirm: 

"Of course Edgar believed the verses to have 
reference to himself; of course, believing them 
he would devise some subtle answer whose 
meaning should be full of significance to me. 
Now I doubt if any reader has ever formed to 
himself a very clear conception of the ballad 
of 'Annabel Lee.' Is the subject of the poem 
living or dead ?" 

Mrs. Whitman points out the significance of 
the reference to the "highborn Kinsmen" who 
"bore away" Annabel Lee, asserting that Poe 
would hardly have used the words, "high- 
born" and "Kinsmen," as descriptive of angels ' 
who were bearing some one to a heavenly realm. 

"Now," she assests, "I will tell you what I 
suppose to have been the veiled meaning of this 
passage." She goes on to say that during the 
winter of 1849 she was suffering from chills and 

[ 130 ] 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

fever and her physician advised her to spend the 
the winter with relatives in South Carolina; she 
decided that she would do so and planned to 
take a steamer from New York to Charleston. 
She wrote to Mrs. Osgood telling of this ar- 
rangement and asking her to meet her on board 
the boat, but at the last moment, the plan was 
relinquished and friends in New Bedford insisted 
that Mrs. Whitman should go to them; she 
therefore wrote to Mrs. Osgood that "just as 
she was about to seek the soft and balmy airs of 
the south some of her northern friends had 
'caught her up' and 'borne' her away to the stern 
and rockbound shores of Massachusetts.'' 

Mrs. Whitman asserts that during her ab- 
sence Poe passed through Providence and also 
sent the last letter, which she did not receive 
for weeks after it was written. 

"Poe saw my letter to Mrs. Osgood," Mrs. 
Whitman states, "and referred to the words I 
used in the verse which has so puzzled the 
critics. 

"Of course," she concludes, "the filling up 
of the poem is in many ways purely imagina- 
tive. Yet every line and expression has a defi- 
nite meaning when he speaks of the ' voice more 
familiar than his own.' 

"Nevertheless I do not doubt that the poem 
may have had in his mind other shades of mean- 
ing and may have been in some way associated 
with other persons." 

[ 131 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Mrs. Whitman placed much stress on Poe's 
introduction of the words : 

The wind came out of the cloud by night, 

which she compared with her own line: 
The night wind blew cold on my desolate heart. 

In Redfield's "Memoir" it is asserted that 
"Annabel Lee" was addressed "to a Rhode Is- 
and lady," but most of the biographers are in- 
clined to agree with Mrs. Osgood's statement 
that it was written to Poe's wife, Virginia. 

However, in a communication to her friend, 
James Wood Davidson, Mrs. Whitman throws 
some light upon the origin of Mrs. Osgood's 
statement, which seems to have been made not 
so much because she felt sure that Poe wrote 
the lines to his wife, as to prevent their being 
appropriated by Mrs. Lewis, whom she greatly 
disliked. 

Mrs. Whitman recounts that in consequence 
of the financial aid proffered by Mrs. Lewis to 
the Poe family during Virginia's last days, Mrs. 
Clemm was anxious to pay Mrs. Lewis a special 
compliment, and that upon a certain occasion 
Mrs. Clemm stated to Mrs. Lewis that "Edgar 
wrote the ballad 'Annabel Lee' to her." A 
mutual friend, Mrs. Hewitt, who was present 
at this time, and heard the remark, hastened 
back to Mrs. Osgood with the account of Mrs. 
Clemm's assertion. 

[ I3 2 ] 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

Mrs. Osgood was determined that Mrs. 
Lewis should never go down to posterity as 
the true "Annabel Lee/' and as Mrs. Hewitt 
recounts: "Mrs. Osgood's lip curled and she at 
once sat down to pen her comments on the 
poem for Griswold's ' Memoir,' in the course of 
which she points out that Poe's ballad was 
written to his Virginia, i the only woman Poe 
ever loved. 1 " 

"I knew," Mrs. Hewitt writes to Mrs. Whit- 
man, "that Fanny (Osgood) could not for a 
moment have believed this statement, and I 
saw that the lines were dictated by pique." 
Mrs. Hewitt concludes: "She wrote the com- 
ments on 'Annabel Lee,' in Griswold's 'Memoir,' 
not with reference to you, dear Mrs. Whitman, 
but only hoping to 'put Mrs. Lewis down.'" 

A fourth possible claimant for "Annabel Lee" 
is "Annie," Mrs. Richmond, to whom Poe en- 
closed a copy of the verses in a letter, saying 
that he was sending them for her to read, but 
not stating that the verses were written to 
her. Undoubtedly Mrs. Clemm, in another of 
her generous moods, assured "Annie" that the 
poem was really hers, because of the similarity 
of name as well as the compliment paid her by 
being vouchsafed the first reading and a copy of 
the MS. 

The "Annabel Lee" mystery will probably 
never be solved, and it ill becomes Mrs. Whit- 
man's biographer to question that lady's evi- 

[ 133 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



dence in her own favor. It was a satisfaction to 
her to think that Poe had accepted her olive- 
branch of peace, and had sent back a final mes- 
sage, even though it were so closely veiled as 
almost to defy recognition. Yet from a knowl- 
edge of the poet's proud and sensitive nature, 
and his tendency to magnify every affront to its 
highest degree, it seems likely that Poe did not 
forgive his ex-fiancee for not frankly replying to 
his note of protest and assuring him that she had 
never spoken ill of him, and that all reports of 
her having done so were unfounded. This was 
what he asked for and did not receive, and state- 
ments which he is said to have made later in 
Richmond concerning Mrs. Whitman's trying 
vainly to effect a reconciliation with him, prob- 
ably arose from the memories which still rankled 
and were not dispelled by the perusal of "Our 
Island of Dreams," or of another poem sent by 
Mrs. Whitman to the Southern Messenger a 
few months later, beginning: "The fault was 
mine, mine only." 

In her poem, entitled "The Last Flowers," 
Mrs. Whitman has embodied her feelings in 
regard to her parting with Poe. This poem 
bears the date September, 1849, which was two 
months before Poe's death, and from the text 
one may gather the suggestion that these verses 
also were meant for Poe's perusal. 

Dost thou remember that Autumnal day 
When by the Seekonk's lonely wave we stood, 

t 134] 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

And marked the languor of repose that lay, 
Softer than sleep, on valley, wave, and wood ? 

A trance of holy sadness seemed to lull 
The charmed earth and circumambient air, 
And the low murmur of the leaves seemed full 
Of a resigned and passionless despair. 

Though the warm breath of summer lingered still 
On the lone paths where late her footsteps passed, 
The pallid star-flowers on the purple hill 
Sighed dreamily, "We are the last! the last!" 

I stood beside thee, and a dream of heaven 

Around me like a golden halo fell ! 

Then the bright veil of fantasy was riven, 

And my lips murmured, "Fare thee well ! — farewell !" 

I dared not listen to thy words, nor turn 
To meet the mystic language of thine eyes, 
I only felt their power, and in the urn 
Of memory, treasured their sweet rhapsodies. 

We parted then forever, — and the hours 
Of that bright day were gathered to the past, — 
But through long wintry nights, I heard the flowers 
Sigh dreamily, "We are the last ! — the last !" 

Poe's last days have been so frequently de- 
scribed as to need but the briefest summary. 
Upon June 27, 1849, he left Fordham for Rich- 
mond, where for a time he seems to have 
plunged into dissipation from which he gradu- 
ally emerged through the intervention of kind 
friends. His final weeks in Richmond were de- 

[ 13s ] 



POE'S HELEN 



voted to literary work and to the planning for 
the publication of The Stylus, which was to 
realize his literary ambition in periodical form. 
Meanwhile he had renewed his acquaintance 
with his boyhood's sweetheart, Mrs. Shelton, 
who has recorded that at this time she saw only 
the most approved and dignified behavior on his 
part. 

As has been stated, Poe's friends had long be- 
fore suggested the wisdom of a marriage with 
Mrs. Shelton, who was a practical, warm- 
hearted woman, and could provide him with a 
comfortable home of which he was sorely in 
need, as well as financial aid for both himself and 
Mrs. Clemm. 

The wisdom of such a step was recognized by 
Poe, who had, according to his statements made 
to Mrs. Whitman, already contemplated this 
match the previous year, and who still cherished 
the desperate hope of being saved from himself 
by some woman's restraining hand. 

Mrs. Shelton was prevailed upon to look with 
favor on the suit which Poe pressed with his 
usual impetuosity. A speedy marriage was ar- 
ranged and Mrs. Clemm was notified that her 
old age would be provided for by this practical 
union. 

It was said that October 17 was chosen for 
the date of the wedding, before which event 
Poe felt that it was necessary to make certain 
arrangements in New York. On September 27 

[ 136 ] 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

he left Richmond upon a boat which arrived in 
Baltimore the following day. Upon October 
3 Poe was picked up unconscious on the streets 
of Baltimore, and it will never be absolutely 
known whether he was the victim of foul play 
or merely of his own sad weakness. He died at 
the Washington University Hospital on Octo- 
ber 7, 1849, aged forty years. 

He left behind him a goodly number of ene- 
mies, and a small group of loving, loyal friends, 
among whom Sarah Helen Whitman stands pre- 
eminent. 

Her sonnets, written shortly after his death, 
have taken their place among the permanent 
contributions to American poetry, and her 
poem entitled "Resurgemus," which follows, is 
one of the sincere tributes which she paid to 
Poe's memory. 

I mourn thee not: no words can tell 
The solemn calm that tranced my breast 
When first I knew thy soul had past 
From earth to its eternal rest; 

For doubt and darkness, o'er thy head, 
Forever waved their Condor wings; 
And in their murky shadows bred 
Forms of unutterable things; 

And all around thy silent hearth, 

The glory that once blushed and bloomed 

Was but a dim-remembered dream 

Of "the old-time entombed." 

[ 137 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Those melancholy eyes that seemed 
To look beyond all time, or, turned 
On eyes they loved, so softly beamed,— 
How few their mystic language learned. 

How few could read their depths, or know 
The proud, high heart that dwelt alone 
In gorgeous palaces of woe, 
Like Eblis on his burning throne. 

For ah ! no human heart could brook 
The darkness of thy doom to share, 
And not a living eye could look 
Unscathed upon thy dread despair. 

I mourn thee not: life had no lore 
Thy soul in morphean dews to steep, 
Love's lost nepenthe to restore, 
Or bid the avenging sorrow sleep. 

Yet, while the night of life shall last, 
While the slow stars above me roll, 
In the heart's solitudes I keep 
A solemn vigil for thy soul. 

I tread dim cloistral aisles, where all 
Beneath are solemn-sounding graves; 
While o'er the oriel, like a pall, 
A dark, funereal shadow waves. 

There, kneeling by a lampless shrine, 
Alone amid a place of tombs, 
My erring spirit pleads for thine 
Till light along the Orient blooms. 

Oh, when thy faults are all forgiven, 
The vigil of my life outwrought, 

[ 138 ] 



THE BROKEN ENGAGEMENT 

In some calm altitude of heaven, — 
The dream of thy prophetic thought, — 

Forever near thee, soul in soul, 
Near thee forever, yet how far, 
May our lives reach love's perfect goal 
In the high order of thy star ! 



[ 139 ] 



CHAPTER IX 
MRS. WHITMAN'S SONNETS TO POE 

I 

VAINLY my heart had with thy sorceries 
striven : 
It had no refuge from thy love,— -no Heaven 
But in thy fatal presence; — from afar 
It owned thy power and trembled like a star 
O'erfraught with light and splendor. Could I 

deem 
How dark a shadow should obscure its beam ? — 
Could I believe that pain could ever dwell 
Where thy bright presence cast its blissful spell ? 
Thou wert my proud palladium; — could I fear 
The avenging Destinies when thou wert near ?— 
Thou wert my Destiny; — thy song, thy fame, 
The wild enchantments clustering round thy 

name, 
Were my soul's heritage, its royal dower; 
Its glory and its kingdom and its power ! 

II 

When first I looked into thy glorious eyes, 
And saw, with their unearthly beauty pained, 
Heaven deepening within heaven, like the skies 
Of autumn nights without a shadow stained, 

[ 140 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S SONNETS 

I stood as one whom some strange dream en- 
thralls; 
For, far away, in some lost life divine, 
Some land which every glorious dream recalls, 
A spirit looked on me with eyes like thine. 
E'en now, though death has veiled their starry 

light, 
And closed their lids in his relentless night — 
As some strange dream, remembered in a dream, 
Again I see, in sleep, their tender beam; 
Unfading hopes their cloudless azure fill, 
Heaven deepening within heaven, serene and 
still. 

Ill 

Oft since thy earthly eyes have closed on mine, 
Our souls, dim-wandering in the hall of dreams, 
Hold mystic converse on the life divine, 
By the still music of immortal streams; 
And oft thy spirit tells how souls, affied 
By sovran destinies, no more can part, — 
How death and hell are powerless to divide 
Souls whose deep lives lie folded heart in heart. 
And if, at times, some lingering shadow lies 
Heavy upon my path, some haunting dread, 
Then do I point thee to the harmonies 
Of those calm heights whereto our souls arise 
Through suffering, — the faith that doth ap- 
prove 
In death the deathless power and divine life of 
love. 

[ hi i 



POE'S HELEN 



IV 

We met beneath September's gorgeous beams: 
Long in my house of life thy star had reigned; 
Its mournful splendor trembled through my 

dreams, 
Nor with the night's phantasmal glories waned. 
We wandered thoughtfully o'er golden meads 
To a lone woodland, lit by starry flowers, 
Where a wild, solitary pathway leads 
Through mouldering sepulchres and cypress 

bowers. 
A dreamy sadness filled the autumnal air;— 
By a low, nameless grave I stood beside thee, 
My heart according to thy murmured prayer 
The full, sweet answers that my lips denied thee. 
O mournful faith, on that dread altar sealed — 
Sad dawn of love in realms of death revealed 1 



V 

On our lone pathway bloomed no earthly 

hopes: — 
Sorrow and death were near us, as we stood 
Where the dim forest, from the upland slopes, 
Swept darkly to the sea. The enchanted wood 
Thrilled, as by some foreboding terror stirred; 
And as the waves broke on the lonely shore, 
In their low monotone, methought I heard 
A solemn voice that sighed, 'Ye meet no 

more." 

[ 142 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S SONNETS 



There, while the level sunbeams seemed to burn 
Through the long aisles of red, autumnal 

gloom, — 
Where stately, storied cenotaphs inurn 
Sweet human hopes, too fair on Earth to bloom, 
Was the bud reaped, whose petals, pure and 

cold, 
Sleep on my heart till Heaven the flower un- 
fold. 

VI 

If thy sad heart, pining for human love, 
In its earth solitude grew dark with fear, 
Lest the high sun of Heaven itself should prove 
Powerless to save from that phantasmal sphere 
Wherein thy spirit wandered — if the flowers 
That pressed around thy feet, seemed but to 

bloom 
In lone Gethsemanes, through starless hours, 
When all, who loved, had left thee to thy 

doom : — 
Oh, yet believe, that, in that hollow vale 
Where thy soul lingers, waiting to attain 
So much of Heaven's sweet grace as shall avail 
To lift its burden of remorseful pain, — 
My soul shall meet thee and its Heaven forego 
Till God's great love, on both, one hope, one 

Heaven bestow. 



[ 143 ] 



CHAPTER X 
CLEMM-WHITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

AFTER Poe's death Mrs. Whitman re- 
mained a warm and constant friend to 
L Mrs. Clemm, as is shown by their cor- 
respondence. She furnished money to buy her 
medicines and many little comforts, and in re- 
sponse to letters, which invariably suggested 
that the writer was in need of "more," con- 
tinued to give generously all that she could 
afford. 

No better testimony as to the sincerity of the 
affection cherished for Poe by his women friends 
is needed than that offered by the example of 
their willingness to open their homes to his 
mother-in-law. After Poe's death, in 1849, 
Mrs. Clemm spent some time with Mrs. Lewis, 
returning later to make her home with this 
friend for a couple of years; she passed some 
months with Mrs. Houghton, who offered to 
keep her indefinitely; and for a much longer 
period lived with Mrs. Richmond, in Lowell, 
who also proffered her hospitality for an un- 
limited period. 

Although she had never met Mrs. Whitman, 
it is probable that Mrs. Clemm had thoughts of 
eventually going to stay with her, and a vision 

[ 144 1 



CLEMM-WHITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

of her sudden appearance for the purpose of 
taking up her residence in Providence gave Mrs. 
Whitman some uneasy hours. In one of her 
replies to Mrs. Clemm she says: "Had I a home 
of my own, how earnestly I should wish to have 
you with me — to hear you speak of him whose 
memory is so dearly cherished by us." 

Mrs. Clemm's letters contain a characteristic 
mixture of the expression of her devotion to her 
" Eddie," her tender solicitude for his friends, 
and her plaintive presentation of her own need 
for pecuniary help. 

In September, 1851, she requests Mrs. Whit- 
man to use her influence with friends to pur- 
chase from her copies of "darling Eddie's 
books." She says: 

"The publisher only allows me for the pres- 
ent as many copies as I choose to dispose of, 
but owing to great delicacy of feeling (on ac- 
count of that hateful memoir), I can only avail 
myself of this privilege through the kindness of 
friends. I have heard my Eddie speak with so 
much gratitude of Mr. Pabodie's great kindness 
to him whilst in Providence, that I think per- 
haps he will extend that kindness to myself, by 
endeavoring to dispose of one or two copies for 
me." . . . She closes with the words: "How 
much I would like to become acquainted with 
you for my dear Eddie did love you so very 
dearly." 

This letter and another dated in October of 

[ 14s i 



POE'S HELEN 



the same year seem to have been written from 
the home of Mrs. Houghton in New York. In 
the second communication Mrs. Clemm dis- 
cusses a suggestion from Mrs. Whitman in re- 
gard to disposing of more books, then she con- 
tinues: "I have, with my kind friends here a 
very pleasant home, and it is their wish for me 
to make it a permanent one. My proud spirit 
shrinks from any pecuniary favors from them. 
Therefore when I can dispose of a few copies of 
the books, it prevents me being under obliga- 
tion to any one." 

After sending a message of appreciation to 
Mr. Pabodie, she says: "I sincerely hope I may 
soon have the pleasure of becoming acquainted 
with you. I think I would recognize you in- 
stantly from the description my darling Eddie 
gave me of you. My friends think me very like 
him, but I know it is only a family resemblance. 
My friend Mrs. Houghton often says she can 
almost fancy he is speaking to her, when I am 
sad and talking earnestly. Alas I am often sad. 
Oh, how sad ! when I think of all my dear ones. 
The only consolation I feel is knowing that I 
shall soon be with them. Pardon me dear friend 
for speaking thus, but you know it is just two 
years since my precious Eddie left me forever, 
and to a cold heartless world." 

That Mrs. Clemm's activity in seeking as- 
sistance from Poe's women friends was also ex- 
tended to the men who had known him in 

[ i 4 6] 



CLEMM-JVIIITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

literary circles is evinced by numerous letters 
among which were several sent to James 
Russell Lowell, which are almost identical with 
those addressed to Mrs. Whitman at the same 
period. 

Whatever might have been Griswold's true 
attitude toward Mrs. Clemm, whose character 
and disposition he attacked violently in letters 
to Mrs. Whitman and Mr. Pabodie, he certainly 
obtained from her by means of protestations of 
friendship, control of Poe's letters and manu- 
scripts, and in her name begged favors of those 
whom he felt he could best reach in that way. 
A characteristic communication addressed to 
Lowell, in 1849, sets forth his pretended reluc- 
tance to edit Poe's works and his seeming in- 
terest in the welfare of Mrs. Clemm. 

He writes: "Poe was not my friend. I was 
not his and he had no right to devolve upon 
me this duty of editing his works. He did so, 
however, and under the circumstances I could 
not well refuse compliance with the wishes of 
his friends here. . . . It is a difficult task, but I 
shall execute it as well as I can, in the short 
time allowed to me. . . . 

"If you will revise your Memoir and continue 
it down to the death of Poe, it will be of very 
great advantage to Mrs. Clemm, who is to re- 
ceive all the profits which are not retained by 
the bookseller. My services will be altogether 
gratuitous. 

[ 147 1 



POE'S HELEN 



"I, wrote a very hasty notice of Poe for the 
Tribune, the night of his death. A part of it is 
quoted in the last Home Journal. Though badly 
done, I think it is essentially just." 

Griswold's seeming reluctance to assume the 
task of biographer and his efforts to prove that 
Poe had thrust the work upon him may be 
viewed in the light of Poe's own remarks made 
to Lowell in 1843 when he inquired in a letter, 
"Who is to write your life for Graham? It is 
a pity that so many of these biographies were 
entrusted to Griswold. He certainly lacks inde- 
pendence, or judgment, or both." 

It is evident that Poe would not have chosen 
Griswold as his biographer, even if he did think 
that he might edit his works, and it is also evi- 
dent that Griswold loved Mrs. Clemm no better 
than he did her son-in-law. 

This he made clear to Mrs. Whitman im- 
mediately after Poe's death, when he wrote in 
response to her protest regarding his harsh 
obituary: 

New York, Dec. 17, 1849. 
My Dear Mrs. Whitman 

I have been two or three weeks in Philadel- 
phia, attending to the remains which a recent 
fire left of my library and furniture there; and 
so did not receive your interesting letter in re- 
gard to our departed acquaintance until yester- 
day. 

[ 148 1 



CLE MM- frill TMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

I wrote — as you suppose — the notice of P(oe) 
— in the Tribune — but very hastily. I was not 
his friend, nor was he mine, as I remember to 
have told you, but I endeavored always to do 
him justice; and though that sketch of him has 
been deemed harsh, I did not mean that it 
should be so. 

I undertook to edit his writings to oblige Mrs. 
Clemm, and this work will be published in two 
thick volumes, of which a copy shall be sent 
you. I have done very little more than to ar- 
range them and read the proofs. Enough are 
omitted for another volume, and I shall perhaps 
hereafter prepare one, of his correspondence 
and miscellanies. 

I saw very little of Poe in his last year, and 
know nothing from him of his feelings toward 
you. Mrs. Osgood, I am confident had not seen 
him, nor written to him a syllable, in more than 
two years, and she received from you only one 
brief note, soon after her return from Provi- 
dence, when she was quite ill. On her recovery, 
it was too late for her to answer it. I believe 
she intends very soon (she is now again quite 
ill) to write to you. I never heard, and I should 
not have believed if I had heard, that you spoke 
of Poe unkindly. I can understand very well the 
contradictory and extraordinary influences of 
his genius and his habits of life upon you. That 
such influences as you seem to suspect, were 
used with him, seems very probable. But you 

[ 149 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



may err in regard to their origin. I do not wish, 
of course, to involve myself in any such private 
feuds as a knowledge that I so write to you 
would occasion, but I cannot refrain from beg- 
ging you to be very careful what you say to, or 
write to, Mrs. Clemm, who is not your friend, 
nor anybody's friend, and who has no element 
of goodness or kindness in her nature — but 
whose whole heart and understanding are full 
of malice and wickedness. I confide in you these 
sentences, for your own sake only — for Mrs. 
Clemm appears to be a very warm friend to me. 
Pray destroy this note, or, at least, act cau- 
tiously, till I may justify it in conversation with 
you. 

I was told that all your letters to Poe had 
been sent back to you since his death. It seems 
this was not true. When his correspondence (or 
parts of it) was placed in my hands, I asked for 
your letters, judging from intimations I heard, 
that they had been preserved, and wishing my- 
self to forward them to you. . . . 

I write very hastily; but I trust not alto- 
gether illegibly. 

I am yours very sincerely, 

Rufus W. Griswold. 

The question of what became of Mrs. Whit- 
man's letters to Poe has never been answered. 
Both Griswold and Mrs. Clemm denied all 
knowledge of them, though it seems likely that 

[ ISO] 



CLEMM-WIIITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

the latter, in the process of burning up a por- 
tion of the correspondence which she desired 
to keep from Griswold, may have allowed these 
missives to vanish in smoke. 

On May 6, 1852, Mrs. Clemm writes to 
Mrs. Whitman from Mrs. Richmond's home in 
Lowell. She tells of having been there for some 
months, and recites a melancholy tale of recent 
sufferings from neuralgia and other ailments. 
During this trying period she has longed for 
her dear Virginia and Eddie to speak words of 
consolation, and she murmurs: "But alas I 
never shall hear those beloved voices again. — I 
sincerely thank you for the enclosure in your 
letter. I was infinitely more gratified with your 
kind attention than (although acceptable) with 
the money. ... I intend some time in June to 
visit Fall River for a few weeks, and will then 
call and see you — you little know how much I 
wish to do so. Will you have the goodness to 
present my regards to Mr. Pabodie, I hope to 
have the pleasure to thank him in person for his 
kindness to my poor Eddie. I hope you will 
write me often." 

In her reiteration of the gratitude felt by Poe 
for Pabodie's kindness, Mrs. Clemm brings to 
mind the interesting question of the part 
really played by Pabodie in the drama of Poe's 
last days. 

Briefly summed up: He seems to have played 
the part of everybody's friend; a role which 

[ 151 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



always savors somewhat of insincerity. Gris- 
wold boldly acknowledged to Mrs. Whitman 
that he "was not Poe's friend, " but Pabodie 
figured as his intimate during his whole associ- 
ation with Providence, took him to his home, 
obtained his confidence, and became his in- 
separable companion. Why did he do it ? Was 
it for the love of Poe, for whom he seems to 
have expressed no real affection or even warm 
feeling in the communications which have come 
down to us ? 

Pabodie was an ardent admirer of Mrs. 
Whitman, and his attachment to Poe seems to 
have dated from the moment that he perceived 
that Poe was laying siege to her affections. He 
believed most implicitly, as did the rest of Mrs. 
Whitman's friends, that there could be no hap- 
piness for her in such a match, and he acknowl- 
edged subsequently that he did everything 
within his power to break it off. This he might 
have done for the sake of Mrs. Whitman, if not 
for his own, but could he have done it honor- 
ably for Poe's sake ? 

As Poe's friend he should have done his best 
to keep the other from temptation, and have 
aided in the consummation of Poe's desire, or 
at least left the matter wholly in Mrs. Whit- 
man's hands. The evidence all goes to point 
out that he did what he could to destroy Poe's 
chances and to hasten the termination of the 
engagement. It is not known who tempted Poe 

[ 152 ] 



CLEMM-JVHITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

to drink before he paid a visit to Mrs. Whit- 
man, but it is certainly true that Pabodie did 
not hesitate to accompany him to her house 
when Poe was not himself. In short, while he 
appeared to Poe as his one friend and true 
supporter amidst a hostile throng, he was un- 
doubtedly the finger of fate that intervened 
to break ofT this engagement and snatch from 
Poe an opportunity which might have opened 
for him a new and more auspicious era; one 
can but wonder what his feelings were when 
upon Poe's last evening in Providence he walked 
away from Mrs. Whitman's house with him, 
soothing Poe's indignation with friendly words. 
This we shall never know, but this we do know 
that Poe and Mrs. Whitman were both con- 
vinced that in him each had a true, disinterested 
friend — and perhaps they were right. 

Mrs. Whitman's next letter to Mrs. Clemm 
shows that the latter is busily endeavoring to 
get into her hands every available bit of Poe's 
w T riting, and hopes that Mrs. Whitman may 
furnish something. 

The latter writes: 

"I was gratified to learn from my friend, 
Miss Carpenter, that she had the pleasure of 
seeing you while she was in Lowell and to re- 
ceive through her a kind message from you. 

"I believe she told me that you had some 
thought of writing me in regard to some Manu- 
scripts of Edgar's which you supposed to be 

[ 153 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



in my possession. I think she must have mis- 
understood you, and that you must have re- 
ferred to the copies of the Broadway Journal, 
which he left with me. 

"With the exception of 'Letters and Notes' 
I have no manuscripts of his, saving two pages 
of a lecture* which he delivered in Lowell, in 
the summer of 1848. He brought it to Provi- 
dence when he was here in September. On one 
of these pages was a notice of my own poetry, 
as compared with that of Mrs. Osgood, and 
Miss Lynch. The notice being very compli- 
mentary, I naturally wished to obtain from 
him a copy of it. He replied to my request by 
tearing out the leaf and presenting it to me, 
saying he would replace it by a more elaborate 
notice. These pages I retain and I have often 
thought that I should like to see the remainder 
of the lecture. Can you tell me what has be- 
come of it ? ... I hope that I may have the 
pleasure of seeing you if you return home by 
the way of Providence." 

On November 23, 1854, Mrs. Clemm is once 
more with Mrs. Lewis in Brooklyn, and she 
writes that it is long since she has heard from 
Mrs. Whitman. "I have been with Mrs. Lewis 
for more than a year, and will remain here for 
at least this winter. The continued unhealthy 
state of Louisiana has prevented me going to 

*In this lecture, entitled "The Female Poets of America," 
Poe highly praised Mrs. Whitman's work. 

[ 154 1 



CLEMM-WHITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

my dear kind friends there. They urge me so 
affectionately to go to them that I am some- 
times tempted to brave every danger and ven- 
ture. I do so long once more to have some one 
to comfort and love me, as those dear ones did. 
Oh ! my precious ones, I regret them more every 
day. . . . Do write me dear one as soon as you 
receive this." 

Although apparently none too content under 
the Lewis roof, Mrs. Clemm is still writing from 
there on February 9, 1857, at which time she 
pleads for the assistance which shall enable her 
to go South. "I do much wish to leave here and 
go to my friends in the south. This I cannot 
accomplish for want of means, will you aid me 
with a small portion of the requisite sum? 
When I tell you, I am most unhappy here, and 
my health very miserable, I think, for the sake 
of my poor Eddie, you will not refuse. At all 
events dear friend, reply as speedily as you can 
for if I go, I must go soon." 

On November 8, 1858, Mrs. Clemm writes 
from her next home in Alexandria, Virginia, 
where she says she is with kind friends, the 
Reuben Johnstons. This letter is filled with in- 
dignation at the slanderous treatment of her 
dear Eddie in a recent "Memoir" prefixed to the 
illustrated poems, which she hopes that some 
one will refute. At the close she remarks: "I 
suppose you have seen by the papers that Mr. 
and Mrs. Lewis are divorced. I had a most 

[ 155 ] 



FOE'S HELEN 



uncomfortable home there for a long time. I left 
her house before they were divorced. " 

Mrs. Whitman replies to this the following 
week assuring Mrs. Clemm that those interested 
in Poe are about to issue a defense of him 
which will probably appear in one of the lead- 
ing magazines. (This is a veiled reference to her 
own "Edgar Poe and His Critics," which she 
at first intended for a magazine article.) 

Early in the year 1859 Mrs. Whitman writes 
Mrs. Clemm several letters in regard to cer- 
tain questions which she wishes to settle before 
issuing her defense of Poe. The first letter is 
dated March 10, and in it she asks for more 
information about Mrs. Stanard, the first 
"Helen," and also about Poe's ancestry in 
which she has always been much interested. 

In a communication dated April 5 Mrs. 
Whitman says of her article: "I think it will 
very essentially modify the popular judgment — 
at least if it should obtain extensive circulation. 
It has been seen by some of the best scholars 
and critics of my acquaintance and highly ap- 
proved by them. It was read by the editor of 
an influential Religious Monthly and by him 
commended to the Editors of the Atlantic. After 
detaining it three months it was rejected with- 
out explanation. I believe that Mr. Lowell is 
not disposed to look favorably upon anything 
written in Edgar's favor. 

"My friends wish me to prepare for a second 

[ 156 ] 



CLEMM-W HITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

edition of my poems and if I also publish a 
small volume of prose, I shall include the ar- 
ticle of which I speak." 

The little volume of prose never appeared, 
but the defense of Poe was shortly issued in a 
small volume by Rudd and Carleton. 

On April 14 Mrs. Clemm replies in a long 
letter which opens with expressions of grati- 
tude for money sent her, by means of which 
she is enabled to buy medicines and other 
things which she requires for her health. 

She exclaims: "I trust it may be returned to 
you an hundredfold." She then proceeds to 
answer the queries about the Stanard family, 
recounting that the persons with whom she 
resides are intimate with Mr. William Cas- 
sinoe, who married Judge Stanard's daughter; 
this unfortunate woman has inherited the fatal 
insanity of her mother, who died in an asylum. 
Mrs. Clemm declares that the first "Helen" 
has been dead twenty-six years (a fact which 
Mrs. Whitman finds incompatible with the 
knowledge of Poe's early association with her), 
and she insists that Poe never visited Rich- 
mond but once, and that in 1849. 

Undoubtedly Mrs. Clemm's memory was at 
this time by no means what it had once been, 
and accuracy of statement was never one of 
that lady's ruling characteristics, even when 
she was in her prime. 

In regard to Robert Stanard, the school 

[ 157 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



friend of Poe and son of the first "Helen," 
whose resemblance to Mrs. Whitman's portrait 
was noted by Poe during an evening at the 
home of his fiancee, Mrs. Clemm proffers the 
information that he "married Miss Lyons of 
Richmond and died four years ago" (about 
1855). A picture of Robert Stanard represent- 
ing him as a man of mature years seems to ex- 
hibit some resemblance to Mrs. Whitman as 
has been suggested, and a glance at pictures of 
the two will serve to convince one that if 
Robert resembled his mother there might also 
have been some resemblance between the two 
"Helens." 

In her response to this letter, written April 
17, 1859, Mrs. Whitman reminds Mrs. Clemm 
that if Mrs. Stanard had been dead only 
twenty-six years then Edgar would not have 
been a schoolboy at the Academy at Richmond 
at the time of her death, but would have been 
a man twenty-two years old. She discusses at 
length the subject of Poe's ancestry, about 
which Mrs. Clemm had made the statement, 
"Edgar's grandfather was born in Ireland." 

Mrs. Whitman advances her favorite theory 
of their joint ancestry, which has been ac- 
cepted by some biographers, but seems on the 
whole untenable by the latest genealogical re- 
search, which points to the likelihood of Poe's 
name coming from that of "Powell" rather 
than "Poer," as Mrs. Whitman believed. 

[ 158 ] 



CLEMM-WH1 TMAN CORRESPONDED : E 

"Mr. Poe was one clay speaking to me of the 
marked resemblances in certain of our tastes 
and habits of thought, some of which might be 
almost termed idiosyncracies, yet were common 
to both. Assenting to what he said, I added: 
'Do you know it has just occurred to me that 
we may come from distant branches of the same 
family and that the name of Power, as well as 
that of Poe, are both variations from the name 
as originally spelled — I think the correct or- 
thography of the name in both instances is 
Poer.' 

"He looked suddenly up with an expression 
of surprise and pleasure on his face and said: 
'Helen you startle me ! for among some papers 
of my grandfather's there is one in which some 
reference is made to a certain Chevelier Le 
Poer, who was a friend of the Marquis de 
Grammont and a relative of our family/ He 
said at the time that he would at some future 
day show me this paper, and seemed very much 
interested in the matter. My father's ancestors 
were of Anglo-Norman family who went over 
to Ireland in the time of Henry II. The founder 
of the family in Ireland was, I think, Sir Roger 
Le Poer, who went to Ireland as Marshal to 
Prince John, in the reign of Henry II. The 
name Poer is by the historians of Ireland 
spelled sometimes as Power and sometimes as 
Poer or De Le Poer." 

Although Mrs. Whitman's genealogical con- 

[ iS9 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



elusions as to Poe's ancestry are not accepted 
by some recent biographers, they have never 
been absolutely disproved, and there still re- 
mains a missing link in the chain to be supplied. 
An English friend who was aiding Mrs. Whit- 
man in her research work sent her the follow- 
ing item about a member of the Poe family in 
Ireland, who was apparently more interested 
in tracing his pedigree than were the members 
of the Poe family in Baltimore: 

"Hutcheson Poe (son of the head of the 
Irish Poes and an officer in the Royal Marines) 
called upon me and seemed very desirous of 
gathering information about the Poe family in 
America. He had been in Baltimore and called 
upon the Poes, on Nelson Poe, Junior, and from 
him did not get a very favorable reception. 
N. P. Junior said he did not know and did not 
want to know who his grandfather was, or 
something to that effect. Hutcheson Poe is, ap- 
parently, really an innate gentleman and a 
handsome looking fellow. He gave me an ex- 
tract from the Annual Register for July 14, 
1 8 17, page 60, containing an account of some 
Scotch emigrants taken over to his Polish 
estates by Count Poe, of Doospouda, in Po- 
land. " 

Mrs. Clemm's idea of her own accuracy, 
which differed considerably from Mrs. Whit- 
man's view of it, is summed up in a letter in 
which she says: "Anything else I can inform 

[ 160 ] 



CLEMM-W * HITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

you of concerning my dear Eddie I will do with 
great pleasure. Alas my memory is too faithful, 
I often wish I could forget." This letter closes 
with a suggestion that Edgar's last love has not 
proved as generous as Mrs. Whitman, in her 
remembrance of his "more-than-mother": "I 
have not heard from Mrs. Shelton for a long 
time, here no one knows her, I cannot ascer- 
tain if she is living or no, and she has not been 
the friend to me that you have, and she is rich, 
too, but I will not blame her, for she I suppose 
is entirely estranged from me." Mrs. Clemm 
does not suggest any cause for "estrangement" 
but one can surmise that it may have been oc- 
casioned by too frequent demands for pecuniary 
aid. 

In her next letter, of April 22, 1859, she tries 
to make it clear to Mrs. Whitman that when a 
discrepancy arises between a date given by 
"Eddie" and by herself, she is the one to be 
depended upon; she asserts: "My poor Eddie 
never could remember dates, but always had 
to refer to me, and this I suppose is the mis- 
take." (Possibly Poe's habit of giving out sev- 
eral different birth dates may be accounted for 
by his failure to refer to Mrs. Clemm; on one of 
these occasions he furnished a date which 
showed him to have been born two years after 
his mother's death !) 

Mrs. Clemm writes Mrs. Whitman that Mrs. 
Richmond "still cherishes the memory of dear 

[ 161 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Eddie" and continues her kindness to his 
"desolate mother." She says: "I hear from her 
once in every week. I never would have left 
her but for the climate, the physician said I 
could not survive there." After furnishing more 
information about the Poe family Mrs. Clemm 
closes with a suggestion that she is still lacking 
funds to take her farther south: "I do so fear 
I will not be able to go to my friends in the fall, 
I cannot procure the means, I do not know 
what will become of me. The friends I am now 
with are exceedingly kind to me, but I have no 
claim on them, and they have a large family, 
and, I fear, limited means. The friends I wish 
to go to, I know are anxious to have me with 
them, and they are congenial spirits too. 

"But I will trust in God, if he thinks proper 
he will open a way for me. How much I would 
like to see you face to face, I think I would 
know you among many, for Eddie has so often 
described you to me, you little know how he 
loved you and his agony at parting with you. 
Oh how few understand my darling Eddie." 

Mrs. Clemm may be said to have had a touch 
of Cromwell in her methods, only in place of 
"put your trust in God and keep your powder 
dry" she seems to have substituted the idea of 
extolling her Maker and writing to Poe's women 
friends, especially Mrs. Whitman. The fact that 
Mrs. Shelton did not rise to Mrs. Whitman's 
altitude of generosity, although possessed of far 

[ 162 ] 



CLEMM-WIIITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

greater resources, is again hinted at in this 
letter, when she asserts: "Poor fellow, he little 
thought of leaving me so desolate and unpro- 
tected. . . . But I would rather have it thus, 
he never would have been happy in his con- 
templated marriage (with Mrs. Shelton) and 
to have seen him unhappy would have broken 
my heart. " 

In the interval which follows Mrs. Whitman 
sends Mrs. Clemm her book, which has just 
been published, and also the usual financial aid, 
concerning which the latter says in her next 
communication: 

"I cannot help saying to you, that since my 
dear Eddie's death, you have been one of my 
best friends. " 

Two months later, February 28, i860, Mrs. 
Whitman writes in response to Mrs. Clemm's 
acknowledgment of the book, which is coupled 
with another demand for some of "Eddie's 
handwriting": 

"I would gladly send you some of Edgar's 
writing if I had not already parted with nearly 
everything but his letters, and these I cannot 
lose. . . ." In a second note, dated the same 
day, she says: "I was disappointed dear Mrs. 
Clemm, in my wish to send you what you 
needed for immediate use. Since I wrote you 
last we have sustained still further losses through 
withholding of customary bank dividends on 
account of Western railroad loans. If what I 

[ 163 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



inclose can be of use to you it is most heartily 
at your service. Do not trouble yourself about 
repayment." 

On March 17, i860, Mrs. Clemm writes that 
it is her seventieth birthday and that there is 
no one now remaining to "bless and congrat- 
ulate " her. She says that Mrs. Whitman's last 
enclosure has furnished her with medicine and 
other little comforts, and outlines her work in 
the frugal household at Alexandria. "I endeavor 
to be as little expense and trouble as possible. 
As an equivalent for my board I teach three 
children from nine until twelve; the rest of the 
day I devote to sewing for her. About five I 
retire to my own room, and oh ! how I do en- 
joy being there with my sad, sad memories. " 

One can well imagine that after a substantial 
eight-hour day of teaching and sewing "sad 
memories" were truly a luxury to the poor old 
lady. 

Indeed, sadness seems to have been a life- 
long satisfaction to her, and the habit of shar- 
ing her sorrows with her friends may be traced 
back even to those happy days spent with her 
loved ones, which she so fondly recalled. A 
young girl who knew her prior to her life at 
Fordham said of her: "Mrs. Clemm and my 
mother soon became the best of friends, and 
she found mother a sympathetic listener to all 
her sad tales of poverty and want. I would often 
see her shedding tears as she talked." 

[ 164] 



CLEMM-WHI TMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

Mrs. Clemm's love of misery was, no doubt, 
like that of her Edgar, of whom Stedman de- 
clared: 

"Possibly his most exquisite, as well as his 
most poetic moments, were at those times when 
he seemed very wretched, and avowed himself 
oppressed by a sense of doom. He loved his 
share of pain, and was an instance of the fact 
that man is the one being that takes keen de- 
light in the tragedy of its own existence, and 
for whom — 

Joy is deepest when it springs from woe. 

Wandering among the graves of those he had 
cherished, invoking the spectral midnight skies, 
believing himself the Orestes of his race — in all 
this he was fulfilling his nature. . . . They err 
who commiserate Poe for such experiences. " 

On May 20, i860, Mrs. Clemm writes that 
she is much distressed at not having heard 
from her Providence friend; she has sent two 
letters which have not been answered and she 
fears for Mrs. Whitman's health. As for herself 
she has been suffering from bilious dyspepsia, 
brought on by too long fasting in Lent. But 
this is only a secondary matter as compared 
with her anxiety for one who was "so loved by 
dear Eddie." She writes: "I know how much he 
loved you. When I go to Heaven, and if it is 
permitted me to tell him everything, how much 

[ 165 1 



POE'S HELEN 



he will rejoice to hear of all your kindness to 
his desolate mother. I do wish I could see you, 
if only for a few hours; how much I would have 
to tell you, particularly about my unhappy 
home while I was with Mrs. Lewis. My health 
and spirits were entirely broken down by the 
continual excitement I went through at that 
time, but I can pray God to forgive her now, 
but it has been very long before I could do so." 

Mrs. Clemm finds her present position much 
more enjoyable, there being no friction to con- 
tend with, but there are other drawbacks of 
which she writes Mrs. Whitman in addition to 
her dependence upon a household provided 
with very scanty means. She says toward the 
close of this year that she is recovering from a 
severe cold which has entirely prostrated her 
and which has arisen from her unhealthy sur- 
roundings. 'This place does not agree with 
me, it lies very low and is always damp. The 
cellar of this house is always filled with water, 
which makes it even more unhealthy/' In con- 
sequence of this she has decided to go to her 
friend, Miss Robins, who has said that she will 
arrange to take her to Europe the next autumn 
and who will defray all expenses. In this letter 
she, as usual, thanks Mrs. Whitman for her con- 
tinued kindness, which is presumably in the 
form of a check. 

Her last communication from Alexandria 
comes at the close of January, 1861, when she 

[ 166 ] 



CLEMM-WIII TMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

is again distressed at not having heard from 
Mrs. Whitman, whom her friend, Miss Robins, 
has reported as ill. She hopes that the illness is 
not serious, but suggests that in case it should 
prove so, a small token would be appreciated 
by her. She asks: "Will you send me a small 
piece of your hair, I will greatly prize it. I will 
have it put in a locket with Eddie's and my 
precious Virginia's. God, I trust, will be with 
you in life and in death." 

Among Mrs. Whitman's possessions there 
still remains a precious lock of hair cut from 
the head of Edgar Poe and presented to his 
"Helen" during their engagement, but there is 
no record of any of Mrs. Whitman's curls hav- 
ing been given in exchange for it, and it is quite 
certain that Mrs. Clemm never received the 
wished-for lock. It may be that a similar re- 
quest went from her to others who had loved 
Eddie and who continued to indicate the same 
by their kindnesses to her, but let us hope that 
they, too, remained obdurate and that the 
locket containing Virginia's hair was not trans- 
formed into a miniature repository for feminine 
locks suggestive of that belonging to Blue- 
beard. 

Mrs. Clemm's next home was with her friend 
Miss Robins, in Putnam, where, as she wrote 
Mrs. Whitman at the end of August, 1861, the 
house was "fine and spacious, beautifully situ- 
ated and with extensive grounds." But ere long 

[ 167 1 



POE'S HELEN 



Miss Robins's health broke down and she be- 
came quite violently insane, so that she was 
obliged to go to a neighboring asylum. This left 
Mrs. Clemm in the home with Miss Robins's 
widowed mother, another sister, and a married 
son whose wife had eloped with her husband's 
best friend and left him with one small boy. 
"Oh dear what a wicked world this is," ex- 
claims Mrs. Clemm, who had certainly seen her 
share of trouble. "The sin and sorrow I have 
witnessed in the last few years, and now this 
terrible desolating war, often makes me de- 
sirous to leave it and go to that sweet home 
where there will be no sorrow. I hope you will 
send me the photograph when convenient." 
Mrs. Clemm thanks her correspondent for her 
last enclosure. 

Early in the spring of 1862 she says: "I have 
passed a very dreary and lonely winter. Poor 
Sallie (Robins) is still in the asylum, and I fear 
with little hope of a permanent recovery. Mrs. 
Robins has been confined to her room all 
winter with, I think, disease of the lungs. Her 
youngest daughter has been in Kentucky for 
a very long time. So you may suppose it has 
not been very pleasant for me. How I wish I 
could get a home in some pleasant family, 
where my services would be an equivalent for 
my board. I want little else. I sew neatly and 
quickly. I would in such a situation feel so much 
more independent. I have nothing to employ 

[ 168 ] 



CLEMM-WHITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

my time here. I have no claim on Mrs. Robins 
and often feel as an intruder. Do you know of 
anyone who would give me a home on those 
terms ? In my last letter I requested you to send 
me your photograph, as you promised me, and 
a copy of 'E. A. Poe and His Critics.' I loaned 
mine in Alexandria, and left there in such haste 
I could not get it again. . . . Will you please 
write me as soon as you receive this." 

A long letter from the poor old lady written 
shortly before her entrance into the Church 
Home, where she spent her last days, probably 
contains Mrs. Clemm's last request for financial 
aid, though it is very certain that up to the 
time of the latter's death Mrs. Whitman con- 
tinued to show her the same substantial in- 
terest. 

This letter is dated Baltimore, June 16, 
1863, and opens with a recital of the uncom- 
fortable condition at Putnam which had become 
so insupportable that Mrs. Clemm in despair 
had written to her old rector, Doctor Wyatt, 
asking him to use his influence to secure her an 
admission to the Widow's Home in Baltimore. 
She says that all her Southern homes are closed 
to her on account of the war, and that Doctor 
Wyatt has placed her temporarily in the Church 
Home where she can remain for a few weeks, 
while she is endeavoring to raise the sum neces- 
sary for admission. If she can obtain one hun- 
dred and fifty dollars she can be taken care of 

[ 169 1 



POE'S HELEN 



for the rest of her life in this haven of refuge, 
which is associated with her beloved Eddie. 

She writes: 

"The Episcopal Church will aid me in getting 
the requisite sum. If I do not succeed in ob- 
taining it I know not what will become of me. 
But my faith in God is still firm. I think He 
will put into the hearts of some good Christian 
(preferably Mrs. Whitman) to aid me. If I get 
there I will never need farther help. ... I sup- 
pose you have heard the literati of this place 
has a monument in prospect of my darling 
Eddie. I have seen a copy of the design, which 
is very beautiful. I always hoped this would be 
done but I could not hope to live to see it ac- 
complished. The gentlemen of the committee 
tell me it will be finished this next fall. I am 
now in house where my beloved Eddie breathed 
his last, and I think it one of my greatest priv- 
ileges that I can go unto the room where he 
died and pour out my earnest prayers to God 
and ask Him to continue His protection to 
me. The sisters are very kind and treat me with 
great attention. Dr. Wyatt recommended me 
particularly to their kindness. I am so much 
happier than I ever hoped to be again. . . . 
Will you not my dear friend, for the sake of 
him who loved you so truly, reply to this, and 
tell me why you have not written to me for 
so long a time. Direct to me, ' Church Home, 
Broadway, Baltimore, Md/" 

[ 170 ] 



CLEMM-WHITMAN CORRESPONDENCE 

There is no record remaining to show how 
much of the necessary one hundred and fifty 
dollars was furnished by Mrs. Whitman, but it 
is likely that she contributed all that she could 
spare from her slender allowance in order to 
comply with this final request from the per- 
sistent correspondent whom she had never seen 
but to whom she had proved so sincere a friend. 

When asked by a correspondent for her opin- 
ion of Mrs. Clemm, Mrs. Whitman replied: 

"You ask what I think of Mrs. Clemm. I 
have never seen her. The three notes or letters 
of hers which I sent you are fair specimens of 
her correspondence and through these letters 
alone I know her. Mrs. Osgood told me that 
she had been a thorn in Poe's side — always 
embroiling him in difficulties, etc. Mr. Wyatt 
thought that she was very impulsive and in- 
discreet and exasperating, — Poe always spoke 
of her with grateful and affectionate considera- 
tion. I believe that she loved him devotedly. " 



[ 171 ] 



CHAPTER XI 
MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS. 

THE letters which follow were written by 
Mrs. Whitman to her friend, Mrs. Free- 
man, between the years 1857 and i860. 

During this period Mrs. Whitman's little 
volume, " Edgar Poe and His Critics," was pub- 
lished and made considerable stir in the liter- 
ary world as the first work issued in Poe's 
defense. 

In the summer of 1857 Mrs. Whitman made a 
trip to Europe at the invitation of her friend, 
Horace H. Day, with whose party she travelled, 
and who on various other occasions arranged 
delightful trips for her to the coast of Maine. 

Mrs. Freeman, who was one of Mrs. Whit- 
man's most devoted friends, was also a poet 
and a frequent contributor to the periodicals 
of her time, writing under the signature of 
"Mary Forrest. " Like Mrs. Whitman, she was 
associated with the circle which included Emer- 
son, Alcott, Alice and Phcebe Cary, and many 
others of that literary group of which her 
Providence friend writes her in March, 1857: 

March, 1857. 
My Dear Mrs. Freeman 

I was very glad to receive your charming 
letter which tells me so many pleasant things. 

[ 172 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

I am glad that you have been passing a happy 
winter and that you have listened to the Orphic 
sayings of the eloquent Concord seer and sage. 
I love and reverence him, and would gladly 
have sat beside you in the pleasant parlor of 
Alice Cary and been refreshed as I have so 
often been of old, in his gracious presence. 
Curtis, in an article on Emerson, in the "Homes 
of the Poets," introduces Alcott as "Plato 
Skimpole," but he has very little of the " Skim- 
pole " about him, and Emerson, with whom I 
lately spent a delightful evening, says for this 
wickedness he must have a reckoning with 
Curtis. I have heard Emerson say, heretofore, 
that intellectually he owed more to Alcott than 
to any other man. 

Do you know Emerson personally ? If not, I 
wish that you may do so. 

It is like the memory of a cool, starry night, 
to have heard him talk. The lights have little 
warmth and are scattered far and wide over 
space, but their rays penetrate everywhere and 
suggest a mighty system which they do not 
reveal. He is so wise, so clear-sighted, so unique, 
so gentle, so beautifully cool and clear. Yet 
withal (I am fain to confess) a little too nicely 
balanced and self-conservative to win your 
whole heart. Thus, he said of a gloriously en- 
dowed friend of mine, who holds herself aloof 
from all society because people offend her 
sense of beauty or equity, — "Why not indulge 

[ 173 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



her fastidiousness by abstaining from what does 
not satisfy and sustain the soul ? What else re- 
mains for her but to abstain ?" 

"The most beautiful of all things remains 
for us," I said, "to transform, to redeem that 
which is unlovely into that which is lovely by 
the power of faith and love." 

I have made some successful experiments in 
this way and devoutly believe that serpents 
may be reclaimed. This is only effected by pa- 
tience and prayer — but the results are wonder- 
ful. 

Yesterday Mr. Prentice of Louisville was 
here and spoke much of Eva* and of "Mary 
Forrest." Her words on Love — "Not who love 
us, but whom we love are ours," have the 
fragrance of spring flowers, and the essence ot 
all wisdom. 

I have sent a dozen times for the U. S. Maga- 
zine since I read your letter, but it has not 
come. Meantime, Eva has sent me the proof- 
sheets of two articles which I have read with 
deep interest. There are some very pertinent 
things in her critique on M. Gasperard. In 
what she says on Faith and will, lies the key to 
all power and the sceptre of all sovereignty on 
earth and in heaven. I do not altogether be- 
lieve, as she says, that when the apostles 
uttered their inspirations they were always to 
the outward eye, "sober, decorous, majestic" 

* Eva was Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes Smith. 

[ 174 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

because as she will remember it was sometimes 
said of them that they were like people "filled 
with new wine." I think she must concede so 
much, in justification of our modern prophets 
and my poet of the Starry Heavens. . . . 

Remember me affectionately to Eva and to 
the Carys and recollect that it gives me joy 
to receive your letters. 

Sarah H. Whitman. 

The correspondence with Mrs. Freeman is 
interrupted by Mrs. Whitman's trip to Europe, 
during which time she wrote a series of inter- 
esting letters to the Providence Journal describ- 
ing her experiences and impressions of famous 
persons. 

Her visit to Walter Savage Landor, whom 
she has pictured most delightfully in one of 
her letters to the Journal, is well worth includ- 
ing with her communications of this date. 

Bath, June 20, 1857. 

We left London on the nineteenth in the 
express train for Bath, travelling more than a 
hundred miles in two hours and a half, without 
inconvenience or fatigue. The road is the best 
and the safest in England and the cars more 
luxurious than a private carriage. 

The stately, sleepy old town lies softly 
cradled within an amphitheatre of lofty hills; 
its noble crescents and beautiful villas, all 

[ 17s ] 



POE'S HELEN 



trellised and tapestried with flowers; its old 
walls and towers and terraces folded and cur- 
tained in heavy draperies of ivy, and steeped 
in the soft vapors of the "aquae solis," the old 
Roman name for its healing waters — "waters 
of the sun." As we rode through some of its 
terraced streets last evening, we did not wonder 
at its reputation as the most picturesque in- 
land city of Europe. It looked magically beau- 
tiful by the soft, rosy twilight that at this sea- 
son in England lingers far into the night. 

Bath is still the favorite resort of invalids, 
idlers and aristocrats, of all who would enjoy 
the dolce far niente in the midst of a perfumed 
and dreamy atmosphere. 

Here were passed the last years of William 
Beckford, the eccentric author of "Vathek," 
and the luxurious proprietor of Fonthill Abbey. 
It was here that he sought to realize the last 
dreams of his marvellous fancy. It seems to 
have been his costly and mournful ambition to 
erect for himself a gorgeous "palace of art," in 
which he might live and die alone; but an 
eternal unrest consumed him, and one after an- 
other of his rare creations were, like his para- 
dise at Cintra (made memorable in Byron's 
beautiful description), abandoned to desola- 
tion and decay. That most grand and terrible 
conception of retribution and despair, "The 
Hall of Eblis" might well have emanated from 
such a brain. Mr. Beckford was undoubtedly 

[ i 7 6 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

what would be called in our day "a medium" — 
the victim perhaps of some haunting, demoniac 
possession. His "Vathek" was written in 
French, at a single sitting of three nights and 
two days, and without intervening sleep or rest. 
May not his rare intellectual tastes, his lavish 
expenditure in architectural creation, and his 
solitary and restless life have suggested to 
Tennyson his wonderful "Palace of Art," and 
to Edgar Poe that strange and sumptuous 
fantasy, "The Domain of Arnheim," one of 
his most cherished and favorite conceptions ? 

Yesterday we accepted an invitation to take 
tea with Walter Savage Landor at his house in 
River street. Hardly less of a recluse than the 
author of "Vathek," Mr. Landor ignores gen- 
eral society, professes not to know a dozen peo- 
ple in England, and politely expresses his en- 
joyment in the society of "foreigners." Mr. 
Emerson in his "English Traits," speaks of 
Landor as one of the three or four persons whom 
he wished to see in visiting Europe. He still 
lives, as in Italy, among a "cloud of pictures." 
His rooms are hung from basement to attic 
with rare paintings by the best French, Eng- 
lish, and Italian masters. Dutch pictures he 
does not like, and has carefully weeded them 
from his walls. He holds to the only orthodox 
creed in art, that beauty should be its sole and 
devout aim. Among his pictures was a beauti- 
ful portrait of the mother of Sheridan, by 

[ 177 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Romney. It was full of riant, sparkling life, and 
showed the clear bright fountain from which 
sprang the vivacious wit of the brilliant orator 
and conversationalist. A picture of Europa, by 
Correggio, pleased me more than all the rest. 
With one hand she had grasped a horn of the 
stately animal she rode, while the other filled 
with roses, was pressed tenderly against her 
cheek. There was a strange ideal charm in her 
innocent playfulness and in the aerial lightness 
with which she seemed borne along through a 
solemn, mysterious atmosphere, whose lurid 
gloom beautifully relieved her soft pearly cheek 
and fluttering milk-white robes. I can never 
forget this picture. I afterwards found it was a 
great favorite with Mr. Landor, who said he 
would rather part with every picture in his col- 
lection than with this. 

His conversation surprises by its freshness 
and novelty, and stimulates by its resistance. 
With all his fine taste and culture, he is too 
arbitrary in his opinions and too eccentric in 
his tastes to be a safe guide to others; but it 
is pleasant to talk with a man who has faith 
in his own fancies. His manners are a singular 
compound of noble courtesy and abrupt, un- 
compromising protest and assertion. He said, 
'You have great writers in your country,' ' 
and spoke in high praise of Emerson, recalling 
with evident pleasure their personal interviews 
in Italy many years ago. He objected to his 

[ 178 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

style, as to that of many of the ablest English 
writers of the last half century; insisting on a 
classic directness and transparency of diction 
as one of the cardinal virtues. 

Among others, he instanced Sidney Smith 
and Washington Irving as examples of faultless 
style. But to assert that the colossal and shad- 
owy dreams the intricate and labyrinthian 
fancies of De Quincey could be adequately ex- 
pressed in a style that is adapted to the racy 
humor and practical common sense of Sidney 
Smith, or to insist that the scope, the subtlety, 
the insight, the remote and star-like beauty of 
Emerson's thought can be told in the sweet 
familiar phrase of Irving, is simply to ask that 
which is, in the very nature of things, impossible. 
As well require that the bulbul and the night- 
ingale should sing like the robin and the lark, or 
that the night-blooming cereus should yield 
the perfume of the day-lily and the violet. He 
praised with much emphasis, the writings of 
Miss Lynn — "Aminone," "Azette, the Egyp- 
tian," and some others. He said they combined 
some of the finer attributes of Rousseau's 
genius, with the intellectual freedom of De 
Stael. I believe these works are just being pub- 
lished in America. He professed not to have 
heard of the author of "Christie Johnstone," 
whose last novel has so stirred the sympathies 
of all American readers. With the exception of 
Howitt's last work, which has just been sent 

[ 179 ] 



FOE'S HELEN 



him by the author, I saw no books in his 
apartments. 

He is said to give away his books as soon as 
he has read them; a most princely and gracious 
habit. Beautiful flowers were on the table, and 
bloomed in beds of earth on the broad stone 
ledges of the windows, an almost universal 
custom in Bath. He gave us moss roses and 
musk plants at parting, and we left him with 
pleasant memories of the hours passed in his 
society. He invited us to return on the morrow 
and see his pictures by the morning light. 
But today we went with a party of friends to 
Clifton, and tomorrow we leave Bath, with its 
grand old Abbey, — "the lantern of England," 
— its Temple of Minerva, its Roman ruins and 
its mediaeval relics, for "sunny France." 

In after years in referring to Poe as a con- 
versationalist, Mrs. Whitman declared that she 
had heard Walter Savage Landor, who was 
pronounced the best talker in England; had 
listened to George William Curtis talk of the 
gardens of Damascus till the air seemed pur- 
pled and perfumed with its roses; had heard 
the autocrat's trenchant and vivid talk, and the 
racy remarks of Doctor Orestes A. Brownson; 
had listened to John Neal and Margaret Ful- 
ler, and to the serene wisdom of Alcott; but 
unlike the conversational power of any of these 
was the "earnest, opulent, unpremeditated 

[ 1 80 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

speech of Poe. The charm of his conversation 
was its genuineness, its wonderful directness 
and sincerity, and what added to the charm of 
his presence in society was his simple, natural, 
unconventional courtesy, and the perfectly 
sincere grace of his manner." 

On her return from abroad, Mrs. Whitman 
resumed her usual life in Providence, where the 
demands made upon her by her mother and 
sister were so exacting that she seldom felt she 
could be spared from home. 

She writes to Mrs. Freeman in September, 
1857, of Charlotte Cushman and her dramatic 
successes: 

"I thank you for your kind sweet letter and 
for your promise to send Madame La Vert's 
vol. which I shall be glad to see. 

"How sorry I am for Eva's loss. For Appleton 
it must be a profounder sorrow than any words 
can speak. His kind and beautiful eyes will be 
clouded I fear by a heavier shadow than has 
ever yet fallen upon them. I shall look with in- 
terest for the poem, of which you speak, about 
the little boy. 

"People wear very long faces here and talk 
only of 'the times.' 

"The failure of the Harpers greatly surprised 
me. 

"Did you see Charlotte Cushman and do 
you like her ? 

"I have seen her in Lady Macbeth, — by the 

[ 181 1 



POE'S HELEN 



way, did you ever think how strange it is that 
lady Macbeth has no name — no distinctive 
name ? Like the witches — she is only the fourth 
witch. 

"I doubt if the character has ever been 
played faithfully since Mrs. Siddons gave her 
great soul to it. I did not like Charlotte Cush- 
man's Lady Macbeth but I like her Meg 
Merrilies. 

"That is I think it horribly true. I passed 
an evening last week with Miss Davenport, 
who tells me it is her great ambition to play 
Lady Macbeth. She has succeeded wonderfully 
in Medea and will, I think, improve greatly in 
the coming year. Do you know her ? She is 
very talented. I do not know if she has genius 
but I think so. 

"If you go to Mobile you must write me 
when you get there. I have been writing a 
letter for the Journal about our Autumnal 
woods which I will send you when it is pub- 
lished. 

"I have just been reading Bayne's critical 
Essays which I like very much. Read it if you 
can and tell me how you like his estimate of 
Mrs. Browning. 

"If Alice Gary comes back and you see her 
give her kindest remembrances from me. It is 
now just a year since you and I sat together in 
her pleasant parlor under the picture of Fanny 
Osgood, while opposite to us hung the por- 

1 182 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

traits of two persons strangely associated in 
my soul's history with her, and with another of 
whom I will not speak. 

"Griswold was living then — now he is with 
them in 'Shadowland.' How strange it seems 
to me." 

In a letter written toward the end of the year 
1857 Mrs. Whitman refers to her dislike of 
Thackeray, in regard to whose merits she had 
carried on many lively discussions with George 
William Curtis who failed to agree with her 
views. 

"I thank you for the kind little note. I have 
not yet seen your article on Modern Criticism, 
which I hope to find on the Athenaeum table 
tomorrow and, like Eva's self, to pronounce 
'capital.' . . . 

" 'Surely' I 'have not read Griswold's will 
in the papers/ Can't you tell me something 
definite about it ? or send me a paper. Did he 
leave Alice Cary his portrait — and what became 
of the other portraits, Mrs. Osgood's and Edgar 
Poe's ? . . . 

"I am glad you like my autumn scenery. 
Your praise always gratifies me. It is for such 
that I love to write. Mr. Giles has been here 
lecturing on Charlotte Bronte, but I think he 
said nothing half so good as Eva has said on 
that great theme. If little Charlotte had known 
when she first began to 'make out' that her 
name would be a theme for lecturers, — as that 

1 183 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



of Shakespeare, or Milton, or Dante, how it 
would have amazed her. 

"Do you remember what she said of Thack- 
eray, that notwithstanding her admiration for 
him his presence always made her feel ineffably 
stupid. I can understand this. I hope you do 
not like Thackeray, for I feel so utterly antag- 
onistic to him that I would rather a friend of 
mine should like the most reckless yellow- 
covered novelist in authordom than to admire 
his prosaic, ignoble, passionless books. I have 
just been reading them at the request of one 
of his admirers and so speak feelingly. Dante 
has somewhere a line which I quote from mem- 
ory, and which expresses exactly what I felt in 
reading him. 'Shuddering I went through those 
fro re shallows, the memory whereof still chills 
me. 

In a letter dated early in 1859 Mrs. Whitman 
refers to the "Phalanstery," a literary club in 
Providence, to which she belonged. Its mem- 
bers amused themselves by writing humorous 
epitaphs addressed to one another, which were 
read at the meetings with much merriment. 
Numerous clever contributions were furnished 
by Mrs. Whitman, who was herself supplied 
by various friends with a greater variety of 
epitaphs than are often vouchsafed to any mor- 
tal. 

Mrs. Whitman thanks Mrs. Freeman for her 
epitaph entitled "Proserpine/' a name which 

[ 184 1 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

is henceforth bestowed upon the subject by 
numerous friends. 

"Thanks for the * Proserpine/ It was read 
to an admiring audience at the Phalanstery and 
pronounced a very finely-drawn and faithful 
outline, allowing, of course, for its pleasant 
flatteries. 

"A series of humorous epitaphs on the ladies 
of the Phalanstery were read last night at Gov- 
ernor Anthony's in which they adopted for me 
your name of Proserpine. The Governor is to 
have a number of copies printed for us. I will 
send you one. They were written by Miss 
Jacobs, the lady who sent the Birthnight 
flowers. She told me last evening that she was 
intending to write on one of the flower-leaves 
'Asphodels,' but sending them away in a hurry 
neglected to do so. Was it not a strange coin- 
cidence with my lines about them?" 

Miss Sarah S. Jacobs's poem on "St. Helena/' 
if not remarkable for its poetic quality is yet 
worthy of preservation as an admirable sum- 
mary of Mrs. Whitman's pet foibles, and pre- 
sents an amusing example of these epitaphs, 
some of which may well rival those belonging 
to the inhabitants of "Spoon River." 

Our Poet's dead, dead as old Grimes, 
Whom we shall see no more, 
She wrote the Carrier's address, 
But she was dead before; 

[ 185 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



And from the post mortem verses that came back to us 

then 
It would not appear that the fit poet nascitur over again. 

No evil anywhere she saw 

With her fan shielded eyes, 

E'en mediums her friendship shared, 

She was of medium size; 
Dr. Johnson wouldn't have liked her, for she was not good 

at hating, 
And indeed her toleration was something past tolerating. 

How oft her voice in memory's ear 

Its rills of music pours, 

She wore a bonnet in the house 

And thin shoes out of doors; 
Faster than seven-league boots they carried her off, those 

luckless thin shoes, 
What boots it now to meditate on such a careless muse. 

Then wipe away those flowing tears 

And let this thought console; 

The gentle martyr died to save 

An India-rubber sole 
It is all leather and prunella to make such a fuss about 

her, 
If we only could think so, we do just as well without her. 

Her creed in short was to believe 
Whatever she ought not to, 
A table rampant was her crest, 
Excelsior, her motto; 
Her acquaintance was extensive in every far and every 

nigh-land 
Throughout Europe, Asia, Africa, America, Hades and 
Rhode Island. 



[ 186] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

Of Speculations she was fond 

Whose depths the soul appall, 

A beaming smile she always wore; 

She often wore a shawl; 
The reason for her great partiality for shawls was perhaps 
Because she found no other so serviceable wraps. 

Farewell the graceful tongue and pen, 

The charm of all the town, 

We know she will not lay it up 

That we have laid her down. 
She is no better off, that we can see for going thus away 
She already had what's promised there, one everlasting 
day.* 

Mrs. Whitman writes of Mrs. Freeman's 
recent poem, entitled "Dead," and at the same 
time refers to James Wood Davidson, who was 
a close friend with whom she carried on an ex- 
tensive correspondence in regard to Poe. He 
also was desirous of bringing out a life of the 
poet, and in the summer of 1858, when she was 
suffering more than usual from the chronic 
heart trouble which she was convinced was 
soon to end her life, Mrs. Whitman intrusted 
to Davidson the Poe love-letters in order that 
he might be able to give to the public after her 
death a more true and just account of her as- 
sociation with Poe. She, moreover, planned at 
one time to collaborate with him. 

"Mr. Davidson sent me last week a notice 
of the first number of the Great Republic in 

* A reference to her friend, Mr. Day. 

[ 187 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



which he speaks of 'Dead' as 'a poem written 
in the wild and unearthly vein of Edgar Poe — 
as fine a thing of the kind as we have seen in 
many a day.' 

"I thank you dearest for all your sweet 
words and sanitary counsels. All will be well. 
I have had an examination of my heart this 
week and although the result is not what your 
kind heart would interpret as * favorable,' yet 
believe me that all will happen for the best. . . . 

"Emerson has been here during the past 
week, and again I passed some delightful hours 
with him after the lecture. I think I never saw 
him so genial and pleasant as now. Did you 
see the report of a fine speech he made at the 
Burns Festival in Boston ? It was the best of 
the evening. He says Alcott has been enjoying 
a paradisal season at St. Louis. Holding parle 
with large and loving audiences. 

"Have you read 'Thorndale' ? Bishop Clarke 
told me last evening at the Phalanx that it was 
a book I should specially like. So I take it for 
granted that you will like it, too. Bishop Clarke 
is the most large-hearted liberal man in the 
Church, preaching spiritualism as openly as a 
man in lawn may dare to do. He has had great 
experiences in the presence of Hume — staying 
with him for days together at the home of the 
Cheney's in Manchester. 

"You ask if 'Lenore' had reference to me. 
It was written years before I knew Poe. But I 

[ 188 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

have something strange to tell about it. On 
the very evening when I received your letter 
proposing this question, I received from David- 
son the January number of Russell's Magazine, 
in which are copies of this poem to Lenore as 
originally printed in the Southern Literary Mes- 
senger. The one beginning: 

Ah, broken is the golden bowl— 

The spirit flown forever — 
Let the bell toll ! A saintly soul 

Floats on the Stygian river 

"In the earlier versions of this poem, quoted 
by Russell, the verses are addressed not to 
Lenore but to Helen, from which Lenore is, 
as Poe once told me, in some sense, a deriva- 
tion. 

"You will see — 

Helen, Ellen, Ellenore, Lenore. 

"Poe liked to trace these subtle relations in 
words and things. . . . 

"The name of Power was originally spelled 
Poer or De la Poer. It is a Norman name and, 
in historical references to the Anglo Normans 
of that name who invaded Ireland with Strong- 
bow, is most frequently spelled that way. Now 
write my paternal name according to this 
earlier and more correct orthography. 

[ 189 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Sarah Helen Poer — 

"Then transpose the letters in the order in 
which I shall number them — 

Sarah Helen Poer 
36512 8 4 91011 7x21413 

1 23 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 
AhSeraphLe n o r e 

"I confess that when I saw the result I felt a 
strange sense of what Macbeth would call 
'Fate and metaphysical aid.'" 

Toward the end of this letter Mrs. Whitman 
speaks of her friend, Mrs. Ritchie, who, with 
Davidson, is aiding her in piecing together the 
true facts about Poe's life in Richmond. She says: 

"Davidson is deeply interested in every- 
thing relating to Poe's character and history 
and had made (without success) great efforts to 
ascertain the facts in this particular matter.* 
You may judge then how valuable to me is the 
information derived through Mrs. Ritchie. 

"It relieves me from a perplexity on this 
matter which I did not know how to solve. Mrs. 
Ritchie's story agrees with that which Poe 
himself told me in regard to this lady, with 
certain qualifications which I will tell you some 
time. But when I was in New York last spring 
Mrs. Stevens told me that it was to Miss White 

* Poe's association with Mrs. Shelton. 
[ I90 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

that Poe was engaged, with other particulars 
that served to complicate the story and, as I 
said, greatly to perplex me. Now I know that 
what Poe told me was true, at least so far as 
related to the incidents of the engagement or 
proposal of marriage, if not as to the feelings 
and motives that prompted it. 

"Four or five months after our final parting 
Poe went again to Richmond and renewed his 
acquaintance with Mrs. Shelton with what de- 
gree of encouragement, on her part, I know only 
that which Mrs. Ritchie has imparted. Her ac- 
count corresponds with his own statement to 
me, and exonerates him from the charge of 
duplicity which attached to the relation made 
by Mrs. Stevens. How grateful I am to you 
for having interested yourself in this matter and 
given me a statement of facts which have freed 
me from all doubt and perplexity in relation to 
the whole affair. I leave the subject for the 
present, but we shall speak of it again I trust 
and I shall tell you many things which I would 
have you know. . . . 

"I see by the paper today that the February 
number of the Great Republic is out. Shall I 
find you there ? 

"I enclose an account of Mrs. Ritchie's 
wedding which you may, or may not have seen. 
I send you too a puff about Fanny Fern, 
written three or four years ago, as a specimen 
of the puff extraordinary. 

[ 191 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



"Last night was my birthnight — and on re- 
turning from an evening with the spiritualists 
I found my table covered with the most beauti- 
ful delicate little flowers that I ever looked on. 
Most of them were quite new to me. I send 
some lines I wrote this morning to the kind 
friend who sent them. 

I do not heed the sands that pass 

So swiftly through Time's slender glass, 

As up the golden stairs I go 

That lead me where the amaranths grow, 

That lead me where the palm-trees blow. 

I do not heed the pulse of Time 
Knelled from the steeple's solemn chime, 
I only count its rhythm's beat 
In measures musical and sweet 
When at mid-winter's merry tide 
These birthnight flowers open wide 
Sweet eyes of wonder, and foretell 
The deathless meads of asphodel 
That wait my coming — then I know 
How near to me the amaranths grow, 
How near the palm-trees bud and blow. 

S. H. W." 

On February 27, 1859, Mrs. Whitman writes 
to Mrs. Freeman from Washington: 

"I received your little note dearest Mary this 
morning sent me from Providence. . . . 

I have seen a great number of Lions and 
some very pleasant people. Have been during 
the past week to Secretary Thompson's recep- 

[ I9 2 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

tion, to the President's last Levee, to three 
Readings of Fanny Kemble (whom I have also 
met in private and for the first time become 
acquainted with) and have attended Signora 
Mario's Lecture in behalf of the Italians. 

Of the Signora I have seen a great deal. 
She is an intimate friend of Mrs. Browning and 
today gave me a few shining threads of her 
hair and of ''Robert's" as she calls the author 
of "Paracelsus," which Signor Mario thinks his 
most remarkable poem. 

I send you a single hair of each in the little 
envelope; the longer of the two is hers. Perhaps 
you will write a poem about it. . . . 

I have written a letter for the Providence 
Journal about the last Levee "Mrs. Kemble" 
etc. which you shall see when it is published. 
I have not yet solved the destiny that lies 
hidden in your name although I have laid 
awake for hours trying to find it. Strange 
things happen here at Washington. A Cali- 
fornian who occupied the parlors over ours 
committed suicide a few nights ago under cir- 
cumstances of great strangeness and horror and 
today at the dinner table I heard that Daniel 
Sickles had just shot a gentleman of this city 
whose attentions to his wife he resented and 
avenged by murder. 

About the Richmond lady, Mr. Davidson (in 
reply to a letter on the subject to a friend in 
Richmond, The Rev. James D. McCabe) learns 

[ 193 1 



POE'S HELEN 



that Mr. Poe was said to have been engaged at 
the time of his death to a daughter of James H. 
Royster (this was Mrs. Shelton). . . . 
Good bye dearest for the present 
Your own 

S. H. W. 

At this time Mrs. Whitman was still uncer- 
tain about the facts connected with Poe's last 
days in Richmond and his association with 
Mrs. Shelton. 

A month later she writes: 

"I miss the beautiful climate of Washington, 
the budding trees and the soft April skies, but 
they will soon be here, the willows of St. John's 
churchyard already begin to look golden in 
the sunlight. My life in Washington seems like 
a dream to me, especially my seeing poor Key 
with Mrs. Sickles among the guests of the 
crowded ball-room at the reception of one of 
the ministers the week before his death. . . . 

'We had our Mt. Vernon festival this week 
and made about a thousand dollars. I did not 
go to it but sent to their antiquarian museum a 
dress of gold-colored brocade which danced 
with La Fayette at a ball in Newport three or 
four score years ago. 



>) 



Writing again a few months later she voices 
her ever-tolerant attitude toward those with 
whom she comes in contact. 

[ 194 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

"How could you think dear Mary that I 

should look on your kind reception of E as 

a weakness ? You know I believe in receiving 
all who come to us, in opening if not 'wide 
arms' at least willing hearts to all seeking souls, 
whether saints or sinners. This seems to me 
conscious strength dearest and not 'weakness/ 
I am very glad that you have met so confiden- 
tially. If we veil our spirits from all but the 
noble and the faithful we shall lose many 
chances of making others happier and better." 

On October 12, 1859, Mrs. Whitman writes 
to this friend in regard to the defense of Poe 
which she has finally completed: 

"I do not know whether I shall go to New 
York this fall. I think not, for Rudd and Carle- 
ton have written to me that they can send the 
proof of my book (which they are just beginning 
to print) to Providence if I desire it. 

"I want to consult you about something in 
relation to it but have not time now. I have 
read 'Beulah' and like it very much. Miss 
Evans has imagination and makes vivid pic- 
tures and incidents. I think she will do some- 
thing very fine by and bye. But the philosoph- 
ical tone she assumes is a little too ambitious 
for her present culture I think. But it indicates 
reading and thought remarkable in so young a 
person. How finely she conceives the spirit of 
Poe's fictions. I want to know something of 
her." 

[ 195 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



A month later she writes to Mrs. Freeman: 

"The little book will be ready early in De- 
cember I think. 

"If you have a chance to say a kind word for 
it I shall be glad. . . . 

"I want some appropriate quotations for the 
interleaf between the title and preface. Can 
you think of any ? I wrote a preface the other 
day at the suggestion of Curtis which I think 
indicates very well the character of the work. 
I will copy it for you: 

'Dr. Griswold's Memoir of Edgar Poe has 
been extensively read and circulated; its per- 
verted facts and baseless assumptions have been 
adopted into every subsequent Memoir and 
notice of the poet's life and have been trans- 
lated into many languages. For ten years this 
great wrong to the dead has passed unchal- 
lenged and unrebuked. 

" 'It has been assumed by a recent English 
critic that "Edgar Poe had no friends. " As an 
index to a more equitable and intelligent theory 
of the idiosyncrasies of his life, these pages are 
submitted to his more candid critics and readers 
by one of his friends.' " 

On February 19, i860, Mrs. Whitman writes 
in regard to her book which has been out for 
about a fortnight: 

'Your kind sweet letter and all your pleas- 
ant words about my book were very grateful to 
me. I can hardly believe a week has passed 
since it came. The days have been so crowded ! 

[ 196 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

"Grace Greenwood lectured here last night 
and just as I was sitting down to write to you 
I was induced to go and hear her. The lecture, 
read by another, would I think have pleased 
me. But she cannot read. I never heard a voice 
so defective. It was painful to hear her. Our 
largest hall was filled to suffocation. No woman 
had lectured before the Lyceum till now and 
the curiosity to see Grace Greenwood, or to 
hear a woman speak, brought together an im- 
mense audience. . . . 

"I had a letter from Mrs. Clemm last night 
expressing great satisfaction in the little book, 
a copy of which Rudd and Carleton sent her 
at my request. She expressed the sincerest 
gratitude and said she knew it would 'make 
Edgar's spirit happier.' I am glad that she ac- 
cepts it in this way. I thought some of my ad- 
missions might pain her. 

"I am glad to have you know Aldrich. Tell 
me how you like him and if you have read his 
poem published by Rudd and Carleton. A Sul- 
tan's daughter secretly loves the husband whom 
for reasons of state she is forbidden to see after 
the ceremonial marriage. I forget the title. It 
is like one of the jewelled windows in Aladdin's 
Palace. I read it through this morning while 
waiting in Grand street for Mr. Carleton. . . . 

"I have just finished the 'Amber Gods.' It 
is as gorgeous and strange as the 'dead butter- 
fly' borne on a salt sea-wind from 'the grey 
loneliness beyond.' I shall read all she writes. 

[ 197 1 



POE'S HELEN 



'How to Grow' somebody sent me a copy 
through the post. On this question I cannot 
dogmatize — I mean the question of marriage. 
I am quite willing that any wife or all wives 
should pass in at the golden door *of Paradise 
'through voluntary and entire subjection of the 
will of the wife to the husband/ I am for the 
largest liberty on this question, and think that 
much may be said for the immolation of wid- 
ows on the funeral piles of their husbands. Yet 
I do not blame those who abstain or run away. 
I am rather disposed to engrave on my banner 
the evangelical war-word 'Break every bond !' 

A couple of months later Mrs. Whitman 
writes that George William Curtis has written 
her for suggestions in regard to the publication 
in book form of "Trumps/' wishing her to be 
"very candid in her criticism," and she is 
therefore rereading the numbers which have 
already appeared serially for the purpose of 
giving the author the criticism asked for. 

Toward the end of May she writes to Mrs. 
Freeman of their mutual literary interests, and 
of the new book, "Harrington," which her 
friend, William Douglas O'Connor, editor of 
the Saturday Evening Post, is engaged upon. 
O'Connor was a great admirer of Walt Whit- 
man, in vindication of whom he published in 
1866 a pamphlet, entitled "The Good Gray 
Poet." He was also a defender of Delia Bacon's 
theory concerning the authorship of Shake- 
speare's plays, being himself an active Baconian, 

.[ 198 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

"Did I tell you that your 'Lullaby' was re- 
published in the Philadelphia Saturday Evening 
Post. It seems to take all hearts. 

"O'Connor writes me that he is at work on 
his story which he has engaged to complete 
before September for a large remuneration. It 
is to be published in Boston. His account of his 
despairing and demagnetized state, after he had 
engaged to do it, was very funny. I had written 
that I hoped the angel had touched his lips 
with a live coal from off the altar. He writes 
that 'he has not/ but 'that the Devil has put 
him on a particularly hot gridiron. Sitting on 
which he has written 321 pages of MS and ex- 
pects to write the remaining 600 before Octo- 
ber.' I fancied you might faintly appreciate his 
position. It is ridiculous (his antithesis) but 
very funny. He has just met Walt Whitman in 
Boston. He says there are incomparable things 
in the new edition. I have not read it, though 
the publishers have sent me an advance copy. 
He says 'the great Walt is very grand and it 
is health and happiness to be near him; he is 
so large and strong — so pure, proud and tender, 
with such an ineffable bon-hommie and whole- 
some sweetness of presence; all the young men 
and women are in love with him.' O tempora, 
O mores ! but this is passing strange, is it 
not ? 'Strange if true' as the newspapers say. 

"Dr. Channing and Jeannie have returned 
from Cuba and are with the O'Connors. 
'Trumps' is rapidly going to press. I hear 

[ 199 1 



POE'S HELEN 



through Mr. Wheaton that my little book is 
in great demand in that region, Mobile, and 
more copies are much needed. In Illinois too, 
it has devoted admirers. John Hay (a poet- 
graduate of Brown University) writes me that 
it lay on the table of Gov. Bissell when he died, 
with some rare German books, — lay nearest his 
hand — and was filled with marks and marginal 
notes. O'Connor says I must read his book be- 
fore it comes out. How can I ? I shall have to 
keep a private secretary and a private critic 
etc. — Yesterday I had to write an obituary on a 
Providence artist ( !) to-day a puff for Leaves 
of Grass (!!!) the day before yesterday a poem 
for a young lady's album (I enclose you a 
printed copy) and tomorrow six letters to the 
south and west, to people I have never seen. 
I admire Mrs. Stoddard's 'Own Story' for its 
vividness and strength. Her sphere is, or seems, 
very limited but very unique and marked. 

"Nora (Perry) is writing an exquisite poem 
about a garden of lilies in a sultry August 
night. Inspired I think by your splendid 
'Dead Sea,' not copied or stolen or even imi- 
tated from it — simply suggested and inspired 
by it." 

In another communication Mrs. Whitman 
tells of some photographs* which she has had 

* These photographs and various others were taken by Mrs. 
Whitman's friend Mr. William Coleman, the photographer, to 
whom she subsequently gave her daguerreotype of Poe. 

' 200 ] 




MRS. WHITMAN AS "PALLAS" 

From a photograph by Coleman, hitherto unpublished 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

taken in costume; her suggestion that the two 
sides of her face express different character- 
istics is of special interest as recalling the fact 
that the same was true of Poe, whose pictures 
show an extraordinary difference in this re- 
spect. 

"Thinking that fine feathers make fine birds 
I have costumed two of my photographs, 
which in some of the pictures gives character 
and is an acknowledged improvement. There 
is something curious about these pictures. Two 
represent the left side of the face and two the 
right side. Those of the left are both decidedly 
masculine, the other two as decidedly feminine. 
Now modern physiologists tell us that the 
brain is dual and the left side positive." 

In a subsequent letter she speaks of Whittier. 

"I met Whittier yesterday and had a talk 
with him about the glory that is to be revealed. 
You may judge how pleasant it was to meet 
the poet of freedom just at this epoch. I had 
never seen him before though he was at one 
time engaged to one of my dearest friends, Ida 
Russell. She was a beautiful, splendid creature 
but lymphatic and impeded by worldly cares 
and solicitudes and ambitions. His Quaker sim- 
plicity and her bumptious tastes did not readily 
harmonize and so they grew to be strangers." 

During the dark days of the Civil War Mrs. 
Whitman's pen cheered and comforted many 
of her friends who were upon the field of ac- 

[ 201 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



tion, and several of her soldier correspondents 
bore with them through the struggle some 
little talisman which she had given them "for 
luck" at parting; she was herself devotedly 
attached to little tokens of varying value and 
artistic merit with which she was always sur- 
rounded; for the sake of the giver or of the 
precious memory connected with the gift she 
often placed upon her walls or in her living- 
room articles possessed of little virtue, and 
pictures, prints, and sketches which caused the 
casual visitor, who knew not why she loved 
them, to wonder at the owner's eccentricity of 
taste. 

Among her published war lyrics was one writ- 
ten just after the fight at Manassas, which in 
its suggestion of the sad bells tolling for Rhode 
Island's dead might seem like a distant re- 
sponse to Poe's funeral bells. 

At the time that these verses appeared their 
author sent a copy to her friend, Mrs. Freeman, 
with the words: "I send you my Miserere 
after the fight three weeks ago yesterday. 

"Lyman Lancing Vaughn was in the dread- 
ful Battery of our second regiment that killed 
so many rebels. . . . My friend Col. Slocum 
was killed that dreadful Sunday. 

"The pressure of his hand still seems warm 
in my own, and the bright living smile with 
which he reminded me of a talisman which I 
gave him when he went to fight our Mexican 

'. 202 1 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LETTERS 

battles and which he wore, passing unscathed 
through the thickest of the fight. That smile 
is ever before me." 

A letter hurriedly scrawled after the battle 
of Bull Run by G. L. Dwight brings the mes- 
sage: 

"In haste dear Helena. All right, a hard 
fight, and got licked. Will tell you more in the 
future. Your horse-shoe carried me through. 
* Fill up your beaker to the brim/ . . . 

"Don't wait for me to write. I can't always 
answer. Write without waiting for it. Long let- 
ters I long for. Noyes here. H was at Alex- 
andria and not in the fight. Under orders 
Ballooning and watching the enemy/' 

In a note to Mrs. Freeman written at about 
this time Mrs. Whitman's words echo the ex- 
citement of the war when she exclaims: 

"I have the affairs of the nation on my hands 
and heart and read the 'extras' all day without 
seeing things nearer crises than two months 
ago. 

"I just heard a boy crying the twelve o'clock 
extra Journal, enriched, as it was delicately 
hinted, by the 'Death of the Rebel General.' 

"Hoping it might be Beauregard I ran to the 
window to secure a copy. It proved to be 
Raines. I wonder if I am getting blood- 
thirsty." 

Mrs. Whitman's verses written after "Ma- 
nassas" were printed in the Providence Journal 

[ 203 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



in August, 1861. Three of the six stanzas fol- 
low: 

By the great bells swinging slow 
The solemn dirges of our woe, 
By the heavy flags that fall 
Trailing from the bastioned wall, 

Miserere, Domine ! 



By the sin we dared disown 
Till its "dragon teeth" were sown, 
By the cause, yet unavowed, 
By the fire behind the cloud, 

Miserere ', Domine ! 

By our northern host betrayed, 
At Manassas' bloody raid, 
By our losses unatoned — 
Our dead heroes, heart-enthroned, 
Miserere, Domine I 



[ 204 ] 



CHAPTER XII 
POE'S WOMEN FRIENDS 

WHEN, after the completion of "Edgar 
Poe and His Critics," Mrs. Whitman 
laid down the pen with which she had 
paid tribute to her eccentric lover, she doubt- 
less fancied that the task which she had set 
herself was at last finished. She had, how- 
ever, reckoned without the host of would-be 
biographers, who were destined to seek her 
out and enlist her aid in the production of 
their various works. 

After an intermission of almost two decades, 
in which the all-absorbing conflict between 
the North and South swept minor matters 
from the field, a second wave of interest in 
Poe arose, and half a dozen biographers en- 
tered the literary arena for the avowed pur- 
pose of doing justice to the poet's memory. 

Each one in turn solicited from Mrs. Whit- 
man the kind assistance which she had shown 
herself both capable of giving and willing to 
bestow; having already done much, she was 
rewarded by enlarged opportunities for doing 
more. From England came an earnest plea 
from John H. Ingram, whose earliest ambi- 
tion had been to champion America's "neg- 

[ 205 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



lected genius"; while on this side, William F. 
Gill, Eugene L. Didier, and others, addressed 
enthusiastic communications to "Helen/' the 
friend of Poe, who had already taken the lit- 
erary stand in his defense. Even from France 
came a demand for Mrs. Whitman's sanction 
of the translations of Poe's poems being pre- 
pared by Stephane Mallarme. 

Although she had now reached the age of 
seventy, Mrs. Whitman's youthful spirit did 
not shrink from the new task imposed upon 
her. She spent her strength ungrudgingly upon 
an exhaustive correspondence with Poe's biog- 
raphers; she hunted data, delved into archives, 
wrote long and painstaking accounts of her as- 
sociation with Poe, loaned pictures, auto- 
graphs, and books which were in her possession, 
and in the end, as a reward, found herself 
whirled about in a vortex of controversy and 
criticism. Most of the men who were deter- 
mined to provide Poe with an authentic biog- 
raphy, like the majority of women who 
claimed they loved him, hated each other 
cordially, and exercised their eloquence in the 
direction of execrating their fellow craftsmen. 
And Mrs. Whitman, who had been friendly 
with them all, was the storm centre and the 
repository of their grievances and grudges; 
a truly wearing occupation for one who was 
past threescore years and ten, and who adored 
peace and tranquillity. 

[ 206 ] 



FOE'S JVOMEN FRIENDS 



The opening of January, 1874, brought Mrs. 
Whitman Ingram's * first communication con- 
cerning Poe; this opened up a correspondence 
which extended over the next four years. 

Previous to this, by a few months, had come 
letters from Gill asking for aid in the prepara- 
tion of a lecture in which he proposed to exon- 
erate Poe from charges which had been made 
against him by Griswold. This lecture was to 
be a forerunner of an extensive Life of Poe 
which he intended to produce. 

To Gill's request, Mrs. Whitman had oblig- 
ingly acceded, sending, to make clear certain 
points, letters and information such as she 
later contributed toward the work of In- 
gram. Before receiving Ingram's first letter a 
number of months had passed, during which 
period Gill had paid no attention to Mrs. 
Whitman's communications, so that she had 
been led to infer that he had relinquished his 
project. 

After a brief acquaintance with these two 
men Mrs. Whitman became convinced that 
the Englishman's work was to prove by far 
the more reliable and adequate, and she there- 
fore put her whole heart into responding to 
his continuous appeals. 

Ingram's first letter opens with the words: 

* Ingram's death in England, in February, 1916, followed the 
announcement of the completion of a final exhaustive work on 
Poe, which he had been for years engaged upon. 

[ 207 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



"I am sending this in the forlorn hope that it 
may reach you safely and induce you to kindly 
aid me in my efforts to clear the memory of 
my favorite author, Edgar Poe, from the cruel 
slanders of the late Dr. Griswoid. For many 
years past I have been collecting material for 
a new life of the poet, but here in England, I 
work under great difficulties. " 

After describing his inability to secure the 
much-needed documents, he goes on to say: 

"A little while ago I was delighted to see 
your work, ' Edgar Poe and His Critics/ in the 
Museum, as it strengthened and confirmed me 
in my desire to do my best in vindication of 
Poe." After expressing his hope that Mrs. 
Whitman will not refuse to assist him, he 
closes his letter with a long list of queries which 
he hopes she will answer. 

From this time, until the close of their 
correspondence, he continues to send Mrs. 
Whitman long and finely penned epistles, cover- 
ing from four to sixteen pages and mailed at 
frequent intervals, sometimes as often as semi- 
weekly. 

In the course of this correspondence a close 
friendship sprang up between the young man 
and the elderly woman, who shared the same 
enthusiasm. Ingram had never been in America 
and was, in many instances, ignorant of facts 
and how to obtain them, until assisted by his 
American correspondent. Upon the other hand, 

[ 208 ] 



FOE'S WOMEN FRIENDS 



his research work had brought to light much 
that had hitherto failed to materialize, and so 
together they solved many problems, and 
when at last his work was finished, Ingram 
acknowledged his deep debt of gratitude to 
Poe's American champion, without whose able 
assistance he could hardly have carried to a 
successful finish his researches in this part of 
the world. 

In return for the information furnished by 
Mrs. Whitman, Ingram sent many enter- 
taining accounts of his acquaintance in Lon- 
don with Mrs. Lewis, Mrs. Houghton, Mrs. 
Gove-Nichols, and other women who had in 
their early days been associated with Poe. 

It was a curious occurrence, suggestive of 
the last act of some comic opera, which 
brought to London, just at this period, so many 
of the actors who had participated in Poe's 
life drama, and showed them making their 
final speeches upon an English stage. This 
feminine coterie, as scrutinized by Ingram, 
something more than "twenty years after," 
presents a very edifying picture of human 
frailties and petty animosities. And the 
idealist breathes a sigh to think that lovely 
woman, who in her youth inspires immortal 
verse, may prove in later years to be un- 
wieldy, unattractive, and commonplace, as 
well as an unscrupulous busybody, quite 
ready to exploit herself at the expense of one 

[ 209 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



whose brief attention has alone rescued her 
from oblivion. 

In his desire to get into close touch with 
the surviving members of the Poe family in 
America, Ingram turned his attention to the 
investigation of the affairs of Miss Rosalie 
Poe, Edgar's one sister. Finding her to be 
quite poor and dependent, he was inspired 
with the idea of sending her a generous sum of 
money raised by the literary admirers of Poe 
in England. He speedily enlisted the sympathy 
of Tennyson, Rossetti, and also of Swinburne, 
who was an especial Poe enthusiast. From the 
latter he received a cordial response which he 
forwarded to Mrs. Whitman on March n, 

i8 74 . 

Swinburne's communication reads: 

I am writing Mr. Morris and have com- 
mended the matter to him as one of Poe's 
truest admirers. With best wishes for your 
success and sincere congratulations on the 
good work you have already done for the 
long and grievously outraged memory of the 
first true and great genius of America, 
Believe me, 
Yours very truly 

A. C. Swinburne. 

This plan to render independent the for- 
tune of Poe's only sister, whose lack of mental 
equipment made it impossible for her to be 

[ 210 ] 



POPS WOMEN FRIENDS 



thrown on her own resources, was never realized, 
for before its accomplishment, the death of Miss 
Poe was announced, on July 21, 1874, at the 
age of sixty-eight years; she had survived her 
brother by a quarter of a century, and the 
only respect in which she was said to have 
resembled him, was in the possession of an ex- 
quisite handwriting; this gift enabled her to 
teach penmanship in the Young Ladies' Semi- 
nary in Richmond, kept by her adopted mother, 
Mrs. McKenzie. Rosalie Poe lived in Richmond 
up to the last year of her life, when she was 
taken into the home of her cousin Nelson Poe, 
of Baltimore. Here her eccentricities made it 
impossible for her to remain for any length of 
time, and she was transferred to the Epiphany 
Church Home, in Washington, D. C, where, 
after a few months she breathed her last. On 
learning of her death, from Mrs. Whitman, In- 
gram expressed much sorrow at having failed to 
carry out his plan more promptly, and wrote for 
the Mirror an appreciative tribute to Miss Poe. 
Ingram pictures to Mrs. Whitman his varied 
impressions of the feminine circle with which 
his researches have brought him in contact. 
Among these acquaintances Mrs. Gove-Nichols* 
figures prominently, as well as Mrs. Houghton 

*Mrs. Nichols, who was a physician, was one of the first 
women to lecture on hygiene. For many years she conducted a 
successful water-cure in New York, and her theories in regard to 
diet, bathing, and fresh air, were in line with those to-day sanc- 
tioned by the medical profession. 

[ 23! ] 



P Oil'S HELEN 



(formerly Mrs. Shew), which two ladies fail to 
agree in their accounts of Poe and of his house- 
hold. 

Mrs. Nichols, formerly Mrs. Gove, was one 
of the friends who came to the assistance of 
the Poe family during Virginia's illness, and 
her stories of the dire want experienced by the 
Poe household, published in later years, were 
said to have been greatly exaggerated. 

Ingram assured Mrs. Whitman that Mrs. 
Nichols's recollections of Virginia's death- 
bed appeared to be "fictitious" when con- 
trasted with the accounts which he had from 
the letters of Poe and Mrs. Clemm, while 
Mrs. Houghton assured him that everything 
needed in Poe's family was amply provided 
by interested friends. 

In summing up Mrs. Nichols's qualifications 
Poe had said of her: "She is a mesmerist, a 
Swedenborgian, a phrenologist and a disciple 
of Preissnitz, and what more I am not pre- 
pared to say." He might have added that she 
was another one of "The Literati" who hoped 
to cancel past indebtedness and acquire fame 
by furnishing the public with the history of 
his family. 

Mrs. Whitman's English correspondent writes 
on January 27, 1875, that he has just seen Mrs. 
Nichols, who promises to aid him; she is old 
and nearly sightless, but exceedingly "posi- 
tive. 

[ 212 ] 



FOE'S WOMEN FRIENDS 



"I'll fight any number of men, but I don't 
want an embroglio with any ladies," he as- 
serts. "Mrs. Nichols promises to work sys- 
tematically to help me, and will not leave a 
stone unturned to do so. She had (in com- 
pliance with an earnest desire from Mrs. 
Clemm) written ' Reminiscences of Poe' for 
a series of sketches in The Leader, and the 
article was, apparently the one reprinted in 
Sixpenny, but with alterations. . . . She in- 
sists that Miss E. Blackwell never boarded at 
Fordham, and that the home there was given 
up by Poe and his mother-in-law long before 
his death. Can you lighten the darkness?" 

The query about Miss Blackwell recalls the 
fact that on this point a misunderstanding 
arose between Ingram and Mrs. Whitman, 
owing to a blunder made by the Englishman in 
mistaking the identity of the two sisters, Miss 
Anna and Miss Elizabeth. Mrs. Whitman's as- 
sociation was with Miss Anna, and her account 
of that lady, sent to Ingram, he tried to fit in 
with Miss Elizabeth's recollections, when he got 
into communication with that lady. She failed 
to verify what Mrs. Whitman had said, and 
Ingram was temporarily convinced that his 
American friend must have misinformed him; 
a conclusion which offended Mrs. Whitman. 

Ingram writes later that Mrs. Houghton 
(M. L. S.), is going to help all that is in her 
power, by going over Griswold's "Memoir" and 

[ 213 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



pointing out the statements which are cruel 
and false. Of these various women assistants 
he says: " Between us twain, I speak everything 
in confidence of all these witnesses, but to 
each of them separately am careful, each one 
having some bitter enmity for each other. Of 
you only do all speak well. . . . Mrs. Nichols 
asked for Stoddard's 'Memoir.' She is sur- 
prised at his trying to throw stones at Poe and 
expected something better from him." 

The writer fears that Mrs. Nichols's recol- 
lections will be decidedly imaginative when he 
receives them, but looks to Mrs. Houghton for 
genuine aid; she is supplying him with fluent 
accounts of her association with Poe, whom she 
aided in time of need, and he wonders why 
Mrs. Clemm has not in her letters referred to 
this lady, to whom she appears to have been 
deeply indebted. 

Even Mrs. Houghton is: "Not always so 
clear as could be wished," but "a regular child 
of nature, ingenuous, unsophisticated and (like 
Mrs. Whitman) too trusting for the human 
world." He later states in response to a query 
from Mrs. Whitman that the reason why 
Mrs. Clemm never mentioned Mrs. Houghton 
was (so he infers) because of the ungrateful 
way in which Mrs. Clemm had treated this 
kind friend. 

He writes: "Mrs. Houghton did anticipate, 
apparently, Griswold's malignity and tried to 

[ 214 ] 



POPS WOMEN FRIENDS 



pay for the suppression of the 'Memoir,' but 
Griswold had too many reasons for publishing 
it to accept her price. He said that Mrs. Clemm 
was 'reconciled' to it. Mrs. C. evidently re- 
ceived a small income from it for life. Don't 
mention this to Mrs. Nichols, or Mrs. Hough- 
ton, both wish well to Mrs. Clemm's memory, 
especially the former, and we are much in- 
debted to them for 'more light.' Poe dictated 
the events of his life to Mrs. Houghton (then 
Mrs. Shew), when he was suffering from the 
illness through which Mrs. H. befriended 
him." 

On May 18, 1875, Ingram writes: "Formerly, 
I was anxious to impart all information at once, 
to help the good cause, but now will be silent 
save to you, till all is published"; he further 
describes Mrs. Houghton: 

"Mrs. Nichols did not think it strange that 
you knew nothing of Mrs. Shew — Dr. Shew is 
dead, and Mrs. Houghton separated from Dr. 
Houghton, if not legally, really ! Mrs. H. is not 
a very highly educated woman, at once ex- 
plains that she is not literary, but one can see 
she has natural talent for some things, and is 
thoroughly good-hearted, loving but indepen- 
dent, and perhaps somewhat too confiding and 
eccentric. She might worry one's life out to 
live with, but apart would inspire affection. I 
must like her, but that of course does not pre- 
vent me carefully weighing all her evidence 

[ 215 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



. . . her letters are so naive and original, that 
I am charmed with them." 

In June 1875, Ingram touches upon his 
association with Mrs. Lewis, whom he sees 
occasionally. She is evidently seeking his 
friendship because she thinks he is likely to 
be useful to her, and he acknowledges that it 
is best not to offend her, as his refusal to ac- 
cept one of her invitations had called forth a 
slurring criticism of his "Memoir" of Poe from 
that lady's pen, although she had previously 
commended this same work. He says that she 
has given him a copy of Poe's daguerreotype 
which she owns, and also Poe's MS. copy 
of "Politian" containing several unpublished 
scenes; he concludes that many of Poe's 
papers which she possesses were probably ob- 
tained from Griswold with whom she had been 
on friendly terms. 

These references to Mrs. Lewis recall the 
fact that Poe wrote complimentary notices 
of her work at a time when her pecuniary aid 
was a household necessity. 

Mrs. Clemm was in need of money for 
family expenses, and Mrs. Lewis sought her 
out and induced her to accept advances of 
which it was very convenient for her to avail 
herself; such loans, or gifts, had to be made 
good by the reluctant poet. Poe at times ex- 
pressed to his friends his extreme distaste for 
such humiliating tasks, but he, nevertheless, 

[ 216 ] 



POPS WOMEN FRIENDS 



discharged them. It has been chronicled that 
Mrs. Lewis would seat herself in Mrs. Clemm's 
kitchen and remain there until the return of 
Poe, who had slipped away in the hope of 
escaping her. His essay on Mrs. Lewis, in 
which he so highly extolled several of her pro- 
ductions, is an example of his method of paying 
a debt of honor contracted by Mrs. Clemm. 

An interesting example of Poe's corrections 
furnished for one of Mrs. Lewis's poems was 
published a few years since by Ingram, in the 
Albany Review (vol. I, 4, 1907). The poem, 
entitled "The Prisoner of Perote, " is com- 
pletely transformed by Poe's changes, which 
were, of course, not credited to him. He at- 
tended Mrs. Lewis's receptions in the same 
spirit of discharging his obligations, and when 
he left on his last journey South, it was from 
Mrs. Lewis's house that he set out, because 
by so doing he could leave Mrs. Clemm in 
the charge of one whom he regarded as an 
especial friend, who would insure her com- 
fort. Mrs. Lewis's loyalty to Poe was exhibited 
soon after his death by her efforts to ingratiate 
herself with Griswold, w T ho posed for a short 
time as chief arbitrator of fame in literary 
circles. While Mrs. Whitman and other of 
Poe's friends were warmly protesting against 
Griswold's onslaught, Mrs. Lewis was writing 
to congratulate the ruthless biographer on his 
having supplied such true "insight into Poe's 

[ 217 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



character"; later, she broke altogether with 
Mrs. Clemm, asserting that she was a "fault- 
finder" and "ungrateful." When, in after 
years, Griswold and his criticisms were no 
longer popular, she again changed her tactics 
and entered the literary arena as Poe's de- 
fender. She composed three sonnets to the 
poet's memory, the last being addressed "To 
His Foes." In her later days she doubtless con- 
vinced herself that she had really performed 
many kindnesses done by others, and she per- 
sisted in declaring that Poe had asked her to 
write his life. 

Mrs. Lewis's baptismal name was Sarah 
Anne, a name which she scorned to attach to 
her literary productions; in consequence she 
adopted "Estelle" as a pen-name, or "Stella," 
as she was called by Poe in the lines addressed 
to her. His acrostic written to "Sarah Anna" 
upon a certain occasion, did not, it has been 
stated, meet with the lady's approval, and her 
insistence upon the name of her choosing was 
at times a source of expense to the poetess, 
as is shown by a letter of Griswold's, written 
to her husband, in which Griswold claims 
quite a sum for the cost of altering her bap- 
tismal name to her poetical one, in a laudatory 
account of her work. 

That Mrs. Lewis had flooded Poe with her 
correspondence was evident from testimony 
casually offered by Griswold, who wrote to 

[ 218 ] 



FOE'S WOMEN FRIENDS 



James Russell Lowell in 1849, in answer to 
the latter's inquiry about his own letters: 
"I remember seeing in the hands of Mrs. 
Lewis, of Brooklyn, who has a large share of 
the letters addressed to Poe, some of yours, 
and these I will endeavor to obtain and send 
to you." 

Mrs. Lewis was generous in furnishing in- 
formation regarding Poe's arch-enemy, Mrs. 
Ellet, who, she asserted, "goaded Griswold 
to death." 

In a brief correspondence with Mrs. Hough- 
ton, Mrs. Whitman is given a glimpse of the 
attitude of that lady toward " Stella." 

Mrs. Houghton voices her indignation that 
Mrs. Lewis should be asserting that she ren- 
dered that timely aid to the Poe family which 
was in reality given by herself. She exclaims: 

"I do not see how you all could attribute to 
that Mrs. Lewis that sorrowful time in his 
life when he needed a congenial friend and 
generous loving care. If it had been left anony- 
mous I should have kept quiet, but Mr. In- 
gram's mention of Mrs. Lewis, as doing my 
work, was more than my sense of justice could 
endure, and I have spoken out to this noble 
enthusiastic defender of Mr. Poe, John In- 
gram. ... I can't see why Mrs. Clemm 
should have allowed this, of course I know 
she is dead and has been for many years, still 
it cannot be possible she was so far gone in 

[ 219 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



mind and memory as to have forgotten the 
long time it took her unfortunate ' Eddie' 
to even tolerate Mrs. Lewis. I saw very little 
of Mr. Poe the last year of his life, and Mrs. 
Lewis may have laid them under obligations 
just about the time Edgar went to Richmond, 
which obliged him to write up her works while 
on this lamentable tour, for Mrs. Clemm made 
promises for him which humiliated his soul, 
and to which he made less resistance as he 
began to break up in brain-power about this 
time. Of course, the body cannot be sustained 
upon pride (however true and honorable), and 
want may explain more than anything else." 

In a subsequent letter she says: 

"My initials when Mr. Poe knew me were 
M. L. S., and the Valentine written in 1847 
to Mrs. M. L. S., and published by Griswold 
as a poem of his youth, was written the Feb- 
ruary following Mr. Poe's wife's death and 
published in the Home Journal, by Mr. Willis, 
at that time. I was married to Dr. Roland 
S. Houghton, in November 1850. . . . 

"(The Valentine) will tell you in a few 
eloquent words, Mr. Poe's feeling toward me 
in his most generous and even grateful manner 
and expression. It speaks for itself — and can- 
not be gainsaid. I have sent the original to 
Mr. Ingram. . . . 

"Mr. Griswold had reason to dislike me, and 
put the Valentine to Mrs. M. L. S., among 

[ 220 ] 



rors women friends 



the poems 'written in youth.' I went to see 
this creature Gnswold with Mrs. Clemm twice, 
and tried to bribe him to leave out his memoir, 
by paying the cost of those published, but his 
hatred of Mr. Poe was a passion w T orthy of a 
demon instead of a man. . . . 

"P. S. You will not misunderstand me, I do 
not wish to injure Mrs. Lewis, but she has 
allowed Mr. Ingram to make statements un- 
true. 

"Mrs. Clemm never mentioned to me of 
being at Mrs. Lewis's house, but she might have 
been sometime, but my honest opinion is, that 
Mrs. Lew T is had no home to offer her. Where is 
this Mrs. Lewis. Do you know ? I am curious 
because of her audacity. M. L. S. H." 

Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes Smith was the next 
one of Poe's friends with whom the English 
biographer became acquainted. She was an- 
other of "The Literati" whose personal claims 
upon the friendship of Poe won from him a 
rather lengthy tribute to her poetic work; an 
appreciation which, if analyzed, may be said 
to come under the head of "damning her 
with faint praise." In this critique Poe writes 
that Mrs. Smith's "most popular poem, ac- 
cording to Griswold," is "The Acorn," which 
though inferior to her poem, "The Sinless 
Child," is preferred by many. He speaks of 
"The Sinless Child" as having made its first 
appearance in the Southern Literary Messenger, 

[ 221 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



where it "at once attracted much attention 
from the novelty of its conception" (a "Sin- 
less Child" being an undoubted novelty in 
almost any locality). 

Poe further remarks that the poem is quite 
long, including more than two hundred stanzas 
of some eight lines each; and after reviewing 
its theme at generous length he concludes: 
"The execution of 'The Sinless Child' is as 
we have already said inferior to its conception 
. . . (its author) enables us to see that she has 
very narrowly missed one of those happy 
'creations' which now and then immortalize 
the poet. With a good deal more of deliberate 
thought before putting pen to paper, with a 
good deal more of the constructive ability, 
and with more rigorous discipline in the minor 
merits of style, and what is termed in the 
school prospectuses, composition, Mrs. Smith 
would have made 'The Sinless Child' one of the 
best, if not the very best, of American poems." 

After having been immortalized by this 
commendation, drawn out and painfully ex- 
tended over a half-dozen pages, Mrs. Oakes 
Smith undoubtedly felt herself justified in 
taking her place among the poetic elect of her 
times. Yet whatever may have been the pop- 
ularity attained by her poem, "The Acorn," 
it was evidently not the kind from which the 
"great oaks spring," except perhaps to phys- 
ical dimensions. At all events when the old 

'. 222 ] 



POPS WOMEN FRIENDS 



lady entered the circle of story-tellers who 
would willingly have aided Ingram, he rec- 
ognized the fact at once, that discretion was 
the better part of valor, and that Mrs. Oakes 
Smith was one to be avoided for the sake of 
Poe, if not for that of his biographers. 

This lady was a most ardent spiritualist 
who revelled in the supernatural and told her 
dreams impressively. In 1851, her book en- 
titled "Shadowland" was filled with her be- 
liefs and experiences in the realm of spirits 
which she claimed was far more real to her 
than that of earth. In this little book she re- 
fers to Poe as one "endowed by nature with 
the eye of a dreamer, and the intuitions of a 
believer," but she declares, "a slight overbal- 
ance of intellect was enough to destroy the 
beautiful harmony originally designed." This 
conclusion differs from that arrived at by most 
critics, for those that have given the matter 
any consideration invariably conclude, that 
it was not "strength of intellect," but "weak- 
ness of will" which brought about the tragedy 
of Poe's existence. 

Mrs. Smith's volume closes with the words: 
"The writer has thus thrown herself into the 
midst of dreams and phantoms, impalpable 
shapes and airy nothings. Her material might 
be greatly extended, but perhaps her devotion 
to truth will be sufficiently shown by what is 
written." 

[ 223 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



It was undoubtedly a recognition of this 
species of "devotion to truth" which made 
Ingram, twenty years later,, refrain from add- 
ing to his collection of facts any specimens 
from Mrs. Smith's storehouse of "impalpable 
shapes and airy nothings." 

Mrs. Whitman's association with Mrs. Oakes 
Smith (called by her friends " Eva," in memory 
of the heroine of her poem, "The Sinless 
Child") was in early years a very close one, as 
their mutual interest in spiritualism drew them 
together. Mrs. Whitman wrote several poems 
to this friend, who was in her day beautiful 
and much admired. Mrs. Smith aided her hus- 
band in editing several papers ; and, in addition 
to the publication of a number of books, she was 
the first woman in this country to appear as a 
public lecturer, and at one time she was pastor 
of an independent church. 

Yet her friendship with Mrs. Whitman cost 
the latter her most priceless autograph trea- 
sure, namely the poem "To Helen," beginning, 
"I saw thee once, once only." Owing to Mrs. 
Oakes Smith's glowing accounts of the power 
of a certain clairvoyant, Mrs. Whitman sent 
the manuscript of this poem to Doctor Joseph 
R. Buchanan, then of Cincinnati, who was 
publishing a medical and physiological journal, 
and making experiments in character-reading. 
Doctor Buchanan, who had furnished Mrs. 
Oakes Smith with an impressive reading after 

[ 224 ] 



FOE'S WOMEN FRIENDS 



holding an unsigned manuscript of hers in a 
blank envelope, was intrusted with Poe's poem, 
for psychometric experiment, and after it had 
been in his hands for two or three months a 
request was made for its return. The doctor re- 
plied that it had been mislaid and that as soon 
as it was found it would be returned accompa- 
nied by the looked-for "reading." The poem did 
not, however, turn up. 

Ingram had doubtless concluded that 
"Eva's" assistance was something to be 
avoided, when he exclaimed to Mrs. Whit- 
man: 

"Mrs. E. O. Smith is no good, and I am in 
hopes that I shall be free from her in a friendly 
manner." 

In reference to Mrs. Gove-Nichols he says: 

"She has just recovered her sight after an 
operation. She tells me that she is preparing 
her 'Recollections of Poe' for me, but I fancy 
she'll give too much space to Mrs. Clemm, 
whom she was very fond of. I may misjudge 
her but I cannot help deeming that she belongs 
to the genus imaginative. I judge from some 
letters and one short interview, but we'll see. 

"Were it not so terrible I should often laugh 
at my American lady correspondents. Half 
their time and space is devoted to slandering 
each other — swearing that Poe cared only for 
them, and that everybody else who lavs claim 
to his friendship is an impostor ! That they 

[ 225 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



(each one says the same) were only girls when 
he knew them, and when he died, and so could 
not vindicate him to the world, etc. ! ! Entre 
nous — they all hate Mrs. Lewis — (that makes 
me think she could not have been so bad), 
and she returns it with interest. In fact, they 
all look upon Poe's fame as a convenient peg 
upon which to hang their own mediocrities 
where the world may see ! For my part I be- 
lieve Poe only cared for Mrs. Houghton out 
of the lot of them, and he loved her and clung 
to her as a friend, and as the friend of his wife, 
but not in any nearer or dearer way. I'm sure 
that Mrs. H. is most anxious to impress this 
upon me, as, apparently, someone who had the 
right to be jealous of her, was jealous. I do 
like Mrs. H. so much for herself, and not 
only for her goodness to Poe." 

He forwards to Mrs. Whitman Mrs. Hough- 
ton's account of the writing of "The Bells": 

"Poe came to her house ill and depressed 
and said 'I have to write a poem and I don't 
know what to say.' He sat at the open window 
and the sound of the church bells, sad and gay, 
came in, and Mrs. Shew (afterwards Mrs. 
Houghton) suggested them as a subject, and 
Poe wrote the first draft of 'The Bells' as 
has been previously recounted." On the first 
manuscript, which, Mr. Ingram says, is in his 
possession, Poe wrote 'The Bells by M. L. 
Shew." Her purchase of his poem "To M. L. 

[ 226 ] 



FOE'S WOMEN FRIENDS 



S." Ingram also explains by saying that Mrs. 
Shew was then about to be married to Doctor 
Houghton, and, having seen the verses, which 
were likely to be considered too ardent by the 
public, in view 7 of her approaching marriage, 
she, upon hearing from Poe that he was about 
to sell them for twenty dollars, offered him 
twenty-five dollars and so secured them from 
publication at that time. 

The last of the feminine circle with whom 
Ingram comes into touch is "Annie," Mrs. 
Richmond, of whom he writes November 2, 
1876: 

"Mrs. Richmond speaks in the highest terms 
of Poe — she, I fancy, saw nothing but his 
brightest side. I think she was very glad at 
the prospect of his marriage with you, but I 
cannot help deeming the result was the best 
that could have happened, at least for you." 

Ingram asserts that Mrs. Richmond has 
placed a large number of letters at his dis- 
posal, and has told him that the manuscript 
of "The Bells," which Gill has claimed the 
ownership of, was only loaned the latter by 
her. 

Toward the end of Ingram's correspondence 
several points of difference arose in regard to 
certain dates and events about w T hich Mrs. 
Whitman had given him information; he was in- 
clined to accept the testimony of Mrs. Clemm,* 

That set forth in her letters. 
[ ^7 ] 



POES HELEN 



and others, whose statements conflicted with 
those of his Providence friend, and this seem- 
ing lack of confidence in her accuracy, after 
his having so long acknowledged its value, 
grieved Mrs. Whitman exceedingly and caused 
a partial estrangement, 

Mrs. Whitman's sensitiveness to Ingram's 
questioning of her statements was enhanced 
by his publication of the "Annie" letters, 
which exploited the fact that, while Poe was 
engaged to her, he was writing exceedingly 
affectionate, if "brotherly," letters to Mrs. 
Richmond, who undoubtedly appealed to 
the more practical and human side of his 
nature. "Annie" was young, warm-hearted 
and impulsive; she adored Poe's genius, and 
when he came to visit in her household minis- 
tered to his comfort, and acted the part of a 
loving sister, as he asserted. On these occasions 
"Annie's" husband, Mr. Richmond, was in- 
cluded in the family group, and seems to have 
shared his wife's interest in Poe. 

While Mrs. Whitman appealed to the ideal 
and intellectual side of Poe's nature and con- 
stantly inspired him to rise to the heights she 
hoped that he might attain, it is certain that 
she deplored his weaknesses and exacted from 
him a line of conduct which he felt he could 
never maintain. Under these circumstances 
it is not unnatural that in moments of reac- 
tion, when he was debating with himself his 

[ 228 ] 



POE'S WOMEN FRIENDS 



own qualifications, he should have turned to 
''Annie" for the affectionate encouragement 
of one who accepted him as he was, and soothed 
instead of endeavoring to uplift him. After 
the breaking off of the engagement, Poe turned 
at once to "Annie" for sympathy, and also 
as a friend to champion his reputation which 
he felt had been unjustly assailed. 

It can be easily imagined that the publica- 
tion, for the first time, of the "Annie" letters, 
of which Mrs. Whitman had known nothing, 
and which seemed to tell the public that Poe's 
love for her was less intense than she had 
supposed, came as a great shock to her, and 
not only darkened, but shortened her last 
days. 

After her long association with Ingram and 
her faithful endeavors to aid him in his work 
(and he owned that she was the only one to 
whom he was materially indebted), it was a 
distinct blow to Mrs. Whitman to have pub- 
lished by Ingram the affectionate letters to 
"Annie," in which Poe referred slightingly to 
her, and announced his satisfaction at having 
the engagement broken. In these letters, which 
reveal the omission of considerable matter by 
the English editor, he might well have omitted 
such paragraphs as were bound to wound the 
feelings of one who had been his faithful as- 
sistant. Although in the end, Mrs. Whitman 
modified her displeasure, and in her apprecia- 

[ 229 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



tion of Ingram's work,* dedicated to her, for- 
gave his deviation from what she thought the 
path of friendship, their previous happy re- 
lationship was never re-established. 

* Ingram's first ''Memoir" was dedicated to Mrs. Whitman. 
The second, containing the "Annie" letters, was issued after her 
death, but the letters themselves had been previously published 
by Ingram in a magazine article. 



[ 230 ] 



CHAPTER XIII 
RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 

THE way of the transgressor may be hard, 
but that of the assistant of rival biog- 
raphers is harder still, and in this stony 
path the daintily shod feet of Mrs. Whitman 
were destined to travel wearily during the last 
years of her life. 

Yet it is true, "the labor we delight in 
physics pain," and despite the harassment, 
incessant controversy, and even the dissatis- 
faction with final results, Mrs. Whitman un- 
doubtedly experienced the keenest pleasure in 
sharing in the production of works in which 
she felt such intense interest. 

Although many years had elapsed since 
Griswold's cruel attack on Poe had stirred 
the literary circles to controversy and indig- 
nation, the memory of his brutality, coupled 
with the undying charm of Poe's romantic 
figure (the only truly romantic figure in our 
literature), left him still in possession of the 
foremost place in the hearts of would-be biog- 
raphers. 

The wave of interest, which culminated in 
the " Baltimore Memorial," in 1875, with its 
impressive exercises and dedication of the 
"Poe Monument," seems to have started 

[ 231 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



several years earlier, making itself apparent 
quite simultaneously on both sides of the 
water, as has been previously suggested. In 
France, England, and Germany, as well as in 
New England and the South, prominent men 
of letters were busying their pens with essays, 
criticisms, translations, and finally biographies 
of Poe. 

The first of these to turn to Mrs. Whitman 
had been Richard Henry Stoddard, to whom 
she supplied considerable data, loaning him 
various selections from Poe's letters in the 
belief that they would help him in the inter- 
pretation of the writer. Instead, however, of 
Stoddard's taking a sympathetic view of 
Poe's communications, he scoffed at them as 
insincere productions, using them rather as 
evidence against his subject than in his favor. 
This naturally grieved Mrs. Whitman ex- 
ceedingly, and for this reason she was more 
keen to assist the next applicant for aid, in 
the belief that a biographer truly in sym- 
pathy with Poe would estimate his character 
more justly. 

Therefore, as has been already noted, when 
William F. Gill, of Boston, applied to her she 
readily responded to his appeal. 

In the autumn of 1873 he wrote to Mrs. 
Whitman: 

"Mr. Clarke's memoir fails in strength of 
denunciation of Griswold's mendacity. I mean 

[ 232 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



that my essay shall at least be strong on that 
point. If I can claim no other kindred trait 
with the genius of whom I am to write and 
speak, I can sympathize in the manner and 
spirit with which he denounces any imputa- 
tion upon himself, and the hand which points 
the finger of contempt at Griswold's perfidy 
will not be gloved." 

Gill's claim to resemble Poe in one of his un- 
lovely characteristics is a reminder of Edmund 
Clarence Stedman's pronouncement upon those 
of his biographers, who have dwelt more upon 
the "infirmity" of his genius than on his 
literary achievements. He remarks that these 
critics of Poe, although "unable to produce a 
stanza which he would have acknowledged, at 
least felt within themselves the possibilities 
of his errant career. " 

In his desire to handle Griswold "without 
gloves," Gill was at times inclined to lose sight 
of his subject, yet his enthusiasm for Poe 
made Mrs. Whitman hope that he would 
eventually produce an adequate biography. 

But, from the first, it was quite evident that 
he was not an accurate or systematic worker; 
his letters were hasty scrawls, which spoke of 
slap-dash methods and showed the writer's 
inclination to be both careless and inconse- 
quent, contrasting most unfavorably with In- 
gram's beautifully penned epistles and system- 
atic methods of investigation. 

[ 233 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Gill, after visiting Mrs. Whitman in Provi- 
dence, and having been accorded a long inter- 
view, shows by subsequent letters that he has 
practically forgotten the information she has 
bestowed. He writes, March 14, 1874: 

" I am fairly at my work of writing the de- 
fense of Poe now. It occurred to me that you 
might aid me still further, if you would, by 
writing out a sketch of the personal char- 
acteristics of the poet that I might have be- 
fore me. 

"Of course it is not possible to recall all 
that one hears in a conversation. I feel that I 
have forgotten many of the little points evolved 
in my meeting with you. Should you therefore 
have an opportunity soon of recalling any little 
characteristics, they would prove very useful, 
and I should be under new obligations to 
you." 

Having complied with this request, and in 
addition sent Gill a couple of letters to which 
he had vouchsafed no answer, his Providence 
correspondent took it for granted that his 
interest in this work had subsided, and turned 
her attention toward the enthusiastic young 
Englishman. 

During the season of 1874, Ingram furnished 
a magazine article about Poe, in which he used 
some of the matter supplied him by Mrs. 
Whitman, and this was not long in reaching 
the notice of Gill, who at once sat down to 

[ 234 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



voice his exceeding indignation that she had 
allowed Ingram to print that which he was 
about to make use of himself. 

To this communication Mrs. Whitman re- 
plied expressing her surprise at his attitude 
in regard to her right to handle her material 
as she saw fit, and also suggesting that by his 
careless methods and failure to do his part, 
he had convinced her that his defense of Poe 
is not likely to prove as satisfactory as that 
of Ingram. 

Gill responded apologetically, urging that he 
had been a bit hasty, and that his incessant 
work on the Poe biography, which he was now 
engaged upon, must be his excuse for irritabil- 
ity. 

From this time, until the publication of 
Gill's biography, Mrs. Whitman continued to 
aid him as much as was in her power, giving 
him, besides literary material, some bits of 
good advice to which he paid little attention. 

In February, 1875, she is aiding him in the 
correction of proofs and w T rites: 

"I will endeavor to make such corrections 
as seem to me most urgently called for in the 
proofs sent me. . . ." 

She offers some suggestions as to the func- 
tions of the biographer, when she says: 

"I think that selection is as necessary in 
the writing of a Biography, or Memoir, espe- 
cially the Biography of a poet — as it is in the 

[ 235 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



modelling of his statue or the painting of his 
portrait. We want the ideal — the large general 
effect of the subject, not the petty, ignoble 
details and external blemishes. We do not 
want for instance to hear of the wigs and paint 
of a Queen Elizabeth, or the dilapidated wear- 
ing apparel of a poor poet, but to know some- 
thing of his essential attributes and idiosyncra- 
sies. 

Later, she is endeavoring to have certain 
changes made in passages which she points out 
as incorrect. She reminds Gill that she has al- 
ready urged him to make changes which set 
aright some of Poe's own words: "your present 
version makes of it a platitude — a thing Poe 
was incapable of, and the careless rendering is 
sent abroad to be copied and recopied as his ! I 
cannot reconcile myself to such a wrong. . . . 

'You say in your preface that you are in- 
debted to me among others for assistance. 
This involves me as a participant not only 
in all you have seen fit to publish on this sub- 
ject either with or without my consent; as 
were all the Griswold and Pabodie letters in 
your 'Lotus Leaf,' paper, but also in all the 
mistakes and misstatements that you have 
carelessly associated with the matter claimed 
to have been confided to you. I must protest 
against being held responsible for, or made a 
party to such misrepresentation. 

"I am sorry for you since I would gladly 

[ 236 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



have aided you in your advocacy of a cause 
which I have so much at heart. For this I was 
willing to overlook much in the past which I 
found it easier to forgive than to forget, and 
for this I am still desirous of your best welfare 
and success." Mrs. Whitman concludes with a 
postscript which shows that her indignation 
is well aroused: 

"P. S. Since you say it is too late for you 
to make the corrections I have suggested, it 
would certainly be too late to send, as you 
request, a letter of Mrs. Clemm's in order 
that a facsimile copy may be taken from it." 

She is not at all pleased with the theory 
which Gill advances about "The Raven," and 
urges him to omit it: 

"I would earnestly suggest that the omis- 
sion of your theory about the Raven would 
greatly improve the validity of your narration 
in other respects. It is a theory which cannot 
fail to throw discredit upon other portions of 
the work because it rests apparently upon so 
slight a foundation. The sentiment of remorse 
expressed in the poem may have had its source 
somewhere in personal memory, but the treat- 
ment of the subject by you is too literal and 
detracts from, rather than heightens the pathos 
of the situation, at least so it appears to me. 
I know you will appreciate the candor which 
impels me to make this criticism if you do not 
approve the criticism. I should rather leave 

[ 237 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



everything to the imagination, in that rich 
chiaro-oscuro which the great artist delighted 
to work in." 

During the next few months the controversy 
between Ingram and Gill waxes more and more 
strenuous, and each in turn, after having 
poured out his wrath to Mrs. Whitman, at- 
tacks his rival in the public press. 

In January, 1876, Ingram writes Mrs. Whit- 
man that he cannot express his intense disgust 
at Gill's scandalous charge in the "Memorial 
Volume. " He declares that if such an impu- 
dent scamp as Gill lived in the "old world'' 
he would be ejected from the abodes of every 
decent person, but he tells her that he sees 
clearly that such "sad rogues" are not only 
tolerated, but are even feared in the United 
States. He suggests that even she is prone to 
condone Gill's insults and lies. Ingram fears 
that his rival is but one of many such scamps, 
and concludes that he had better wipe his 
hands of "such a crew." 

He goes on to say that a friend has recently 
written to him about Gill, saying, "even your 
grandchildren will curse the day your name 
became connected with that rogue's." This, 
at the time, seemed to him absurd exaggera- 
tion, but he now plainly sees that his other 
correspondent "knew the man." Ingram can 
now understand why poor Poe found the 
United States but "one large prison." For his 

[ 238 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



own part, he has had enough of it. He has 
gladly sacrificed literary and pecuniary rewards 
to try to work out the vindication of a noble 
and unfortunate man's fame; his health has 
suffered in consequence, but were it not for 
Gill he would not have complained. "I would 
have fought and have won against all the 
tricks of your Stoddards, Didiers, Fairfields, 
and the like," he asserts, "but it is quite im- 
possible to sully my name, which is untarnished, 
by having it connected with this Gill." He 
tells Mrs. Whitman that Gill is an unmitigated 
scoundrel and that he sees but one course open 
to himself, namely, "to give up having any- 
thing more to do with Edgar Poe," and if 
Mrs. Whitman will now tell him of any one 
whom she knows to be really honest, he will 
deliver to him his own collection of material 
and also notes, etc., in regard to Poe. 

He closes this indignant letter with the 
statement that he will always be glad to hear 
from Mrs. Whitman on any subject, remark- 
ing, "but you are the only Northern person 
connected with literature whose words I can 
place any reliance on, as a rule." 

His use of the words "as a rule," did not 
please Mrs. Whitman, and she suggested to 
Ingram that he explain the seeming reflec- 
tion upon her veracity; this he subsequently 
did, when in a less excitable mood. 

His letter, which contained a copy of the 
[ 239 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



"Disclaimer," a scathing printed arraignment 
of Gill, offers an example of the warmth of 
feeling which was provoked by this biographic 
rivalry, and will give the reader an inkling of 
the manner in which Mrs. Whitman was 
drawn into the arena of strife. 

Ingram's "Disclaimer" was promptly re- 
sponded to by Gill, whose printed rejoinder 
greatly distressed Mrs. Whitman. She writes 
on February 27, of her "regret and amaze- 
ment" at his reply to Ingram, and asserts: 
"It were better to have abandoned a claim 
which you must have known to be untenable, 
and which in your recent interviews with me 
I thought you frankly admitted to be so." 
She concludes: "I am sorry that I should have 
been the innocent cause of so much antagonism 
and hard feeling between persons whom I 
fain would have regarded as disinterestedly 
devoted to a generous purpose." 

Gill endeavors to justify his conduct in 
quoting from certain of her letters without 
permission, on the ground that he did so in 
order to strengthen his point against his Eng- 
lish antagonist, but Mrs. Whitman's sym- 
pathies are with Ingram, and she finds it hard 
to forgive Gill for his misdemeanors. 

In October, 1876, he writes her that he hopes 
that time will soften her estimate of his short- 
comings, declaring: "The provocation seemed to 
me great, and impulsive people are apt to feel 

[ 240 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



very differently when swayed by any excess of 
feeling than in cooler moments when reason is 
at command." 

In response to this letter Mrs. Whitman 
says: "In relation to what I wrote you about 
your controversy with Mr. Ingram, and your 
misuse of my letters, you say that under the 
influence of provocation impulsive people are 
sometimes betrayed into doing things which 
their cooler judgment would condemn. This 
I am ready to admit — But one must be on 
one's guard with people who are tempted on 
provocation to betray the confidence of corre- 
spondents. N'est-ce pas ? 

"Now if you have prepared any paper for 
publication on Poe in which you are intending 
to speak of me I must urge it upon you as you 
value my continuance of friendship to submit 
the MS to me before publication. " 

Again she asserts: "I had previously asso- 
ciated you with a cause very dear to me and 
had entertained for you a feeling of sincere 
friendliness and regard, notwithstanding your 
unjustifiable course in publishing letters sur- 
rendered to you only that you might, as you 
said comprehend and authoritatively refute 
one of the calumnies brought against Poe by 
his 'literary executor/ 

She writes in a subsequent letter: "You 
must not wonder that I am unwilling to trust 
these books out of my hands to one so con- 

[ 241 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



fessedly careless as you are. In witness of your 
carelessness or forgetfulness, let me remind 
you that my copy of the third vol. of Red- 
field is still shorn of the pages containing Mrs. 
Osgood's recollections of Poe, which I cut 
out from Griswold's memoir, you having for 
three years neglected your promise to return 
them. Again, the extract from one of Mrs. 
Clemm's letters which you requested for a 
facsimile, you have not returned. You tell me 
that you are less careless than you used to 
be, but your statement about the engraving 
which you wished to obtain my consent to 
your publishing does not accord with this." 

While Mrs. Whitman was endeavoring to 
quell the strife being waged between Ingram 
and Gill, she was approached by one more 
biographic competitor, namely Eugene L. Did- 
ier, of Baltimore, who wrote her early in the 
year 1876: 

"If the most enthusiastic devotion to the 
memory of our greatest genius can possibly 
excuse the liberty I take in thus addressing 
you, please let it suffice. 

"I am writing the life of Edgar Allan Poe, 
to be published by Mr. Widdleton next Sep- 
tember in the Household edition of the poems. 
I want my life to be complete, final and ex- 
haustive. I have obtained much interesting 
information about Poe's parents, and his school 
days in Richmond, his life in Baltimore etc. 

[ 242 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



"If you will furnish me with extracts from 
his letters, literary or otherwise, and above 
all put me in the way of giving an authorita- 
tive denial to the base and infamous calumny 
of Griswold regarding the breaking off of your 
engagement, I shall most gratefully appreciate 
it." 

As usual, Mrs. Whitman did her best to 
help one more enthusiast to give to the world 
"the true Edgar Allan Poe," and as a result 
evoked added resentment from the other biog- 
raphers. Ingram despised Didier, and Gill 
was antagonistic to both, and Mrs. Whitman 
found the path which wound in and out among 
the queries and conflicting statements and bit- 
ing criticisms a devious one to follow. 

Didier, like the others, plied her with ques- 
tions and secured what material he could from 
her already much-scattered store, and finally 
prevailed upon her to furnish an introduction 
for his book, which appeared late in 1876. 

He wrote her in April of that year: 

"I am engaged, heart and soul, upon my 
Life of Poe. Each day adds something new, 
and I am thoroughly convinced that I shall 
be able to offer to the world an accurate memoir. 
It is not my intention to attempt to refute the 
malicious statements of previous writers, but 
simply to prepare a biography which will for- 
ever serve as the accepted and genuine life 
of the Author of the Raven. Mr. Widdleton 

[ 243 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



has assured me that he will never again publish 
Griswold's * Memoir/ 

'The only portion of Poe's life that is lost 
to me is, from the time he left the University 
of Va., Dec, 1826 to entering West Point, 
July, 1830. Can you give me any information 
on this point ? . . . 

"How grateful would I be if you should 
prepare something however brief for my memoir. 
That would indeed show a practical interest in 
my enterprise. . . . 

"Please accept my earnest thanks for the 
corrected copy of your exquisite poem 'The 
Portrait of Poe.' When it first appeared, I in- 
serted it in my copy of 'Edgar Poe and His 
Critics/ which book I esteem the most precious 
in my library/' 

Early in June, Didier is writing to her for 
further assistance, on the score that his manu- 
script must go to press the following month. 

He says: "So do, dear Mrs. Whitman, if 
you can, in any way, assist me in placing before 
the world the true story of your slandered 
friend, my earliest admiration, our country's 
greatest genius — now is the accepted time. 

"I wish all my lady correspondents were 
as kind and considerate, and let me add, 
sensible as you are. Mrs. von Weiss,* having 

* Mrs. Susan Archer Talley von Weiss saw something of Poe 
when he was in Richmond ; she published an article about him in 



Scribne^s Monthly in March, 1876. 

[ 244 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



said she would be pleased to give 'all the in- 
formation' she could 'concerning Mr. Poe,' I 
wrote to her for certain information which she 
claimed to be able to furnish. In reply, she 
writes a long letter, saying: 'Much that I 
knew of Mr. Poe was under the seal of personal 
confidence, and may never be revealed at all — 
but it assisted me to know Mr. Poe as well, I 
suppose, as such a nature may be known or 
understood. My acquaintance with him was 
brief, but there existed between us a very 
strong sympathy and appreciation such as I 
can find no words to thoroughly express, but 
you may, perhaps, understand: and woman 
though I am, and young as I was at the time — 
1849 — I believe that I comprehended him as 
fully as any one ever did. He admitted this/ 

"Mrs. Weiss then goes on to say that the 
cause of the quarrel between Allan and Poe 
was 'very simple and natural under the cir- 
cumstances,' and while admitting that she 
feels it a duty to make known circumstances 
which would extenuate (exonerate) Mr. Poe 
from the charge of ingratitude etc., towards 
his adopted father, asserts: 'I am yet unwilling 
to wound Mrs. Allan's feelings, who is still liv- 
ing. 

After presenting this example of the way in 
which this lady had assisted him, Didier closes 
with the words: "What I w T ant is to remove a 
cruel wrong from the dead, but I have done 

[ 245 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



that without Mrs. von Weiss' valuable assis- 
tance. . . ." 

Didier next voices his contempt for Fairfield, 
who has created a sensation by his production 
of an article on Poe entitled, "A Mad Man of 
Letters," in which he sets his subject forth as 
a victim of epileptic mania. Didier says: "I am 
preparing an article in which I intend to make 
Fairfield, in a literary sense 'The man that 
was walled up/ I know the fellow personally, 
and am familiar with his absurd imitations of 
Poe in his first literary ? productions." 

Fairfield's presentation of Poe as one whose 
genius was something akin to epilepsy, pro- 
voked a storm of protest from Poe's admirers; 
Didier pronounced him "as malicious as he 
was ignorant," Gill announced that he wished 
"to horse-whip" the offender, and Mrs. Whit- 
man, invariably mild and gentle, was driven 
to the production of an article the most severe 
ever put forth by her. 

It was entitled, "Poe, Critic and Hobby," 
and may prove interesting to a generation 
that finds it hard to realize how keen was the 
Poe controversy some forty years ago. 

Oct. 13, 1875. 
To the Editor of the Tribune, 

Sir: 

Mr. F. G. Fairfield, a gentleman who has 
the temerity to pass "ten years among spir- 

[ 246 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



itual mediums" in the cause of science, having 
demonstrated that they are all more or less 
afflicted with epileptic mania, has recently 
turned his attention to poets and men of in- 
spirational genius, and finds that they too, 
from Ezekiel to iEschylus, from iEschylus to 
Coleridge are all mad as March hares. If there 
is method in their madness, there is also mad- 
ness in their method. He frankly confesses in 
his book of mediums that he has himself had 
personal experience of the malady. He has 
studied it in all its phases. He intimates that 
"habitual lying" is one of its most trustworthy 
exponents. . . . 

In the October number of Scribners Monthly 
this gentleman has an article entitled, "A 
Mad Man of Letters," in which he selects the 
author of "The Raven" as a favorable speci- 
men of the epileptic type. Assuming chronic 
lying as symptomatic of the disease, he gravely 
quotes the following story in evidence of Poe's 
habitual mendacity. A single instance, he says, 
may suffice to prove the many. Here is the 
instance: 

"A gentleman who professed to have re- 
ceived 'the facts' from Mrs. Clemm, told him 
that Poe, once on a time, after walking all the 
way from New York to Fordham, swallowed 
a cup of tea, sat down to his writing-desk, and 
dashed off 'The Raven' substantially as it is 
now printed and submitted it to Mrs. Clemm 

[ 247 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



as the result of his evening's incubation, un- 
mindful of the fact that Poe did not reside in 
Fordham until long after 'The Raven' was 
printed and published. Mr. Fairfield naively 
accepts this story as a choice bit of veritable 
history, illustrative of Poe's tendency to ha- 
bitual lying. For how could 'The Raven' have 
been composed at a single sitting, when Mr. 
Fairfield assures us that he has the evidence 
of Poe's contemporaries on this matter, gentle- 
men who were in the habit of meeting him at 
midday for a cozy chat in Sandy Welch's 
cellar. And did not these gentlemen assure 
him that the poem was produced line by line, 
stanza by stanza, and submitted by Poe, piece- 
meal to the criticism and emendation of the 
Ann-St. Clique? Gentlemen who doubtless 
' Knew a hawk from a hand-saw when the wind 
was southerly/ and who suggested many valu- 
able alterations and substitutions. One of these 
gentlemen, says Mr. Fairfield, 'has even pointed 
out two particular instances of phrases that 
were incorporated at his own suggestion,' show- 
ing that 'The Raven' was a kind of joint- 
stock operation in which many minds held 
small shares of intellectual property.' After 
this, may we not hope that the gentlemen who 
assisted at the incubation of this marvellous 
fowl in Sandy Welsh's cellar, will come forward 
in a body to claim their respective shares in 
this piece of joint-stock property, thus setting 

[ 248 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



at rest forever all questions as to who wrote 
'The Raven' . . ." 

Having disposed of "The Raven," Mr. 
Fairfield applies his scalpel to Poe's wonder- 
ful poem of "Ulalume," calling it, in his hap- 
hazard way, "his last poem, a mere rigmarole 
in rhyme, exhibiting in its elaborate empti- 
ness the last stages of mental decrepitude and 
decay." "Thus sang he, then died," exclaims 
this careful and conscientious commentator. 

On the contrary "thus sang he" then wrote, 
"Eureka," "The Bells," "Annabel Lee," and 
other of his most memorable poems. But when 
an "alienist," I believe that is the correct word, 
mounts his hobby and rides roughshod in 
pursuit of an epileptic subject to illustrate a 
favorite theory, he cannot be expected to pay 
much attention to such hard facts as happen 
to lie in his way. . . . 

If Mr. Fairfield, who is not without poetic 
insight, had thought less of his theory and more 
of his subject, he might have better appre- 
hended what he is pleased to call the gist of 
the poem; might have seen that it was not the 
"low hanging moon," but "Astarte" — the 
crescent star of hope and love, that after a 
night of horror was seen in the constellation 
Leo, "coming up through the lair of the lion, 
as the star-dials hinted of morn." He might 
have seen the forlorn heart hailing it as a 
harbinger of happiness yet to be, hoping 

[ 249 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



against hope, until, when the planet was seen 
to be rising over the tomb of a lost love, hope 
itself was rejected as a cruel mockery, and the 
dark angel conquered ... it is a poem for 
poets, and will not readily give up "the heart 
of its mystery" to alien "alienists." 

Mrs. Whitman reviews Mr. Fairfield's un- 
flattering charges, closing with the quotation 
of his accusation that Poe was "incapable of 
honest work," in response to which she says: 
"If this piece of amateur surgery is a speci- 
men of ' honest work* we must needs borrow 
Aesop's lantern to find out its honesty." 

About this time, Didier voices his opinion of 
the value of Gill's work. 

He writes to Mrs. Whitman : 
'The publication of the book has been de- 
layed on account of some negotiation with that 
man Gill, who, it appears, has got together a 
lot of rubbish which he wants to publish. He 
applied to me to incorporate it with my life. 
I declined positively. Mr. Widdleton seems to 
fear him, and is now trying to buy his stuff, 
not for publication, but 'merely to get it out 
of the way.' . . . 

"I thank you most cordially for your letter 
and valuable enclosures. Our poet has one 
rare good fortune at least: so true, so gifted, 
so generous a friend as yourself to watch with 
tender devotion over his honor." 

[ 250 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



Early in January, 1877, Ingram, who despite 
his threat has not after all relinquished his 
biographical undertaking, writes that he is 
awaiting the opportunity to see Gill's book, 
from which he anticipates small profit, and 
also that of Didier, of whom he has a very 
poor opinion. He hopes to produce something 
quite difFerent from "all these sketches," he 
means to paint "a living, breathing man." 

Ere long, his w T ish to see the rival biog- 
raphies is gratified, and he proceeds to ex- 
press his opinion of these American works. 

Of Didier's book he says that Mrs. Whit- 
man's introductory letter is the best part of 
it, exclaiming: 

"Didier seems to have vulgarized all he 
touches. I prefer Griswold's ghastly, gaunt, 
and even fiendish portraiture, to Didier's 
man-milliner sort of puppet. As for his data, 
as, of course, you have detected, they are 
more mischievous and misleading than those 
of any work on Poe yet published. Scarcely a 
page but is full of errors — he has copied my 
vindication extensively, as you see, but even 
there, he has either copied me when I have been 
in error, or has made a ' muddle' of my facts. 
As I have told you, Mrs. Poe died before the 
fire, — Stoddard was quite right there, — and 
that alone would have invalidated the state- 
ments of old Mr. Clarke. . . . From birth to 
death the book is unreliable, untrue, and 

[ 251 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



some statements are, evidently, purposely mis- 
told." 

A few months later Ingram's opinion of 
Gill's book is embodied in a scathing review 
in the London Athen^um, October 27, 1877; 
from this a few extracts may be worth quot- 
ing, to illustrate the kind of welcome which 
greeted Gill's work in London: 

"This 'Life of Poe' is written, its author 
informs us, to correct Griswold's 'numerous 
inconsistencies' and 'glaring falsehoods'; but 
after perusal of the book, we are forced to the 
conclusion that the compiler cannot have read 
his predecessor's work through, or he would 
not make the many erroneous statements 
about it that he does. Some of his misstate- 
ments, indeed, are so singular, that it seems 
strange that they can have been made unin- 
tentionally; whilst his blunders, whenever he 
attempts to give information derived from 
'original investigation' are most ludicrous." 

This criticism continues, in the same pleas- 
ing vein, to demolish Gill's production: 

"Another raison d'etre of this book is, says 
Mr. Gill, the complaint of an English author 
that 'no trustworthy biography of Poe has 
yet appeared in his own country.' If Mr. Gill 
intended to remove the reproach, he has failed 
utterly. Unwilling, or unable, to thoroughly 
investigate personally the subject of his work, 
he has contented himself with taking Mr. 

[ 252 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



Ingram's recent 'Memoir* of Poe as the basis 
and main source of his compilation, added 
several pages from Mrs. Whitman's book, a 
few untrustworthy data from an old sketch 
by Mr. Stoddard, interlarded some irretriev- 
ably vulgar anecdotes, and concluding with a 
republication of the threadbare 'Memorial 
Ceremonies' of 1875, entitles the collection 
'the first complete life of Edgar Poe yet pub- 
lished/ 

"Could he have seen our recent review of 
Mr. Didier's volume, he would, doubtless, have 
deferred publication of his book until he had 
corrected some of the many preposterous er- 
rors with which it abounds. His most glaring 
fault is his want of knowledge of the subject 
he is writing upon; in reprinting quotations 
from the writers, whose works he makes so 
free with, he almost invariably betrays the 
fact that, instead of referring to the original 
source, he is citing at second-hand. He con- 
tinually indulges in long verbatim or slightly 
altered excerpts from his predecessors, without 
affording the least acknowledgment of his in- 
debtedness; and whenever he does confessedly 
quote, he nearly always fathers the quotation 
upon the wrong person. . . . Mr. Ingram's 
'Memoir' is followed with blind reverence, al- 
though, of course, without acknowledgment, 
and the consequences are often quite laugh- 
able. . . . Mr. Gill's errata and blunders would 

[ 253 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



require several pages of the Athenceum to set 
forth." The article closes with a list of some of 
these errors. 

This critique was reprinted in the Boston 
Herald on October 28, and to this onslaught 
Mr. Gill replied in the same paper on Novem- 
ber 11, not softening his epithets or mincing 
his words. 

He began by noting the fact that Mr. Ingram 
was an attache of the London Athenceum^ which 
must explain its present attitude, asserting: 
"This Mr. Ingram, like Mark Meddle in Lon- 
don Assurance^ courts notoriety, and, having 
failed to enlist any attention in his memoir of 
Poe, has, since its publication, groped among 
the outskirts of the literary circles, with his 
shoulders laden to his ears with chips, craving, 
like Meddle, a blow or a kick. Nearly two years 
ago (Feb. 1876) he got what he had for some 
time desired in this way, in a letter published 
by me in the London AthencBum, and copied 
here in the New York Evening Post and other 
journals. . . ." 

Mr. Gill then goes on to protest against 
the duplicity of Ingram in securing from Mrs. 
Whitman the use of letters previously placed 
in his hands, and prints extracts from two of 
Mrs. Whitman's letters asking for the return 
of matter which she wished to show to the 
Englishman. He resents the fact that Ingram 
has taken steps to put his "Memoir" before the 

[ 254 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



American public, after having given him to 
understand that his work would never con- 
flict with his own. He acknowledges that there 
are some errors in his work, but declares that 
they are not those suggested by the Athencrum; 
such as they are, he announces, will shortly 
be corrected in his new edition about to appear. 
He says: "Mr. Ingram, probably aware that 
my 'Life' is to be republished in England, and 
sensible of the effect that its disclosure of the 
unreliability of his memoir will produce, took 
the only available means of modifying this 
unpleasant effect by animadverting upon the 
trustworthiness of my biography in the columns 
of the journal to which he is attached. ... In 
conclusion permit me to state that Mr. In- 
gram's memoir, which the Atkencrum accuses 
me of 'blindly following' is comprised in 99 12 
mo. pages, while my 'Life' also a i2mo. con- 
tains 315 pages." 

"Dr. Johnson has said that he never knew 
that he had succeeded ' until he felt the re- 
bound.' According to this test Mr. Ingram has 
paid my 'Life' a compliment by his virulent 
attack which should compensate for the bad 
temper brought to it." 

This retort from Gill called forth another 
regretful protest from Mrs. Whitman, who 
keenly felt the unnecessary publicity given to 
her private correspondence. In addition to her 
own failing health, the recent death of her 

[ 25s ] 



POE'S HELEN 



sister was a source of great sorrow to her, and 
the bitter controversies indulged in by the 
literary men with whom she had hoped to 
work out such admirable tributes to Foe's 
memory told heavily upon her slender reserve 
of strength. 

By this time she had discovered that, how- 
ever different the opinions of Poe's biographers 
might be in regard to their subject, they were 
of one mind in their supreme disdain for one 
another. 

Having recorded Ingram's opinion of Gill and 
Didier, and Gill's opinion of his English rival, 
it may be interesting to learn something more 
of Didier's views concerning the other two. 

Of Ingram, Didier writes: "Every school- 
boy knows who discovered America, but many 
intelligent men and women do not know who 
'discovered' Edgar A. Poe. Some years ago 
an obscure Englishman claimed to have dis- 
covered Poe and made him known to the 
American people. Not only did this obscure 
Englishman claim to have introduced Poe to 
American readers, but he attempted to be- 
little and read out of court all Americans who 
presumed to write about their own country- 
man. But while attempting to undervalue 
their work, he did not hesitate to appropriate, — 
I like a gentle word, — their material. I was a 
student of Poe's life and works before this 
presumptuous Englishman had emerged from 

[ 256 ] 



RIVAL BIOGRAPHERS 



his original obscurity. ... I confess I have 
been astonished at what I have heard regard- 
ing the peculiar methods this 'Discoverer' has 
used in adding to his Poeana." Didier then 
charges Ingram with having failed to return 
to their owners some of the poems and original 
MSS. which they allowed him to have in his 
possession while his work was being produced. 
Having freely expressed himself regarding 
Ingram, Didier voices his admiration for Gill's 
production: "We regret that we cannot truth- 
fully praise Mr. Gill's literary style. . . . Mr. 
Gill's grammar is not always as Caesar's wife 
was required to be, above suspicion. . . . Mr. 
Gill devotes the greater part of his appen- 
dix to an account of the proceeding attending 
the unveiling of the Poe Monument in Balti- 
more in November, 1875. We must condemn 
his bad taste in quoting from the contemporary 
account of the ceremonial such passages as 
these: 'Mr. William F. Gill, who has done 
much by his written vindication of the poet's 
memory to remove false impressions, gave the 
finest rendition of "The Raven" to which we 
have ever listened. The large audience was 
spellbound by his perfect elocution, and his 
resemblance to the recognized ideals of Mr. 
Poe himself made the personation of his horror 
and despair almost painful." To this Didier 
adds: "We were present on this occasion, but 
we saw no person 'spellbound.' We have seen 

[ 257 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



every likeness of Poe extant, but we fail to 
discover any resemblance between the author 
of 'The Raven' and Mr. Gill. Gill set out 
with fixed determination to whiten Poe and 
blacken Griswold. Like the famous La Mancha, 
he attacked all obstructions which stood in 
the way, and the result has been that those 
who knew Poe will scarcely recognize him as 
painted by Mr. Gill." 

In her alliance with the biographers whose 
work she believed would exonerate Poe from 
the injustice which had been done him, Mrs. 
Whitman had doubtless pictured herself as 
happily associated with a set of idealists, who, 
like herself, cherished one precious aim. Ex- 
perience taught her that even the best-inten- 
tioned literary craftsmen are subject to human 
frailties, and may be governed by personal 
interest, swayed by small animosities, and in- 
fluenced by commercial considerations. 

Yet she has left behind her no record of 
having ever regretted the expenditure of time 
and strength which she bestowed upon a cause 
so dear to her. 



[ 258 ] 



CHAPTER XIV 
STEPHANE MALLARME 

IT has been said that a most fitting es- 
cutcheon for Poe might have been the crest 
of Scott's templar, Bois-Guilbert, a raven 
in full flight, holding in its claws a skull, and 
bearing the motto — "Gare le Corbeau." 

However suitable this crest might be pro- 
nounced for the author of "The Raven," one 
would have questioned its appropriateness for 
the gentle Rhode Island poetess, whose re- 
sponse to the famous poem had first brought 
her into touch with its author. Yet it was 
"a raven in full flight" that Mallarme chose 
to send to this lady in the form of a strikingly 
effective book-plate, which she afterward cher- 
ished among her literary treasures. 

It is true that this raven, executed by Manet's 
brush, held no skull in its claws, but instead 
bore a complimentary inscription from Mal- 
larme, who had some time before opened a 
correspondence with Mrs. Whitman. 

The association with Mallarme formed one 
of the most interesting links in the chain of 
events which connected Mrs. Whitman with 
Poe. The Frenchman, who was born in 1842, 

[ 259 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



was, like Ingram, some forty years the junior 
of his friend in Providence, at the time of his 
correspondence with her and his translation 
of Poe's poetic works. 

Ingram had written Mrs. Whitman, early 
in 1876, regarding the translation of Poe's 
poems, on which the Frenchman was then at 
work and had described the illustrated edi- 
tion of "Le Corbeau" which had been pre- 
viously published. He had suggested that 
Mallarme was anxious to make her acquain- 
tance, and was about to write to her. Ere long 
the Frenchman's first letter arrived, and some 
time after the opening of this correspondence 
Mrs. Whitman wrote Ingram: 

"I had on the 28th. inst. an exquisitely 
beautiful letter from Mallarme, who is in 
truth a 'prose poet' in his letters. He says 
beautiful things about you. He has now made 
the acquaintance of three of my friends. Our 
Rose (Peckham), Mrs. Louise Chandler Moul- 
ton and Walter F. Brown, one of our young 
Providentials; so that we are getting well ac- 
quainted. He is to send his 'Raven' by Mrs* 
Moulton who is returning in February." 

As has been pointed out, " The Raven's" pop- 
ularity was not confined to this side of the 
water; its weird fascination was exercised in 
many foreign lands, where curious transla- 
tions and parodies were constantly appearing, 
and already Ingram was planning a compila- 

[ 260 ] 



STEP1IANE M ALL ARM E 



tion of "Raven" literature, a project which 
he later carried out; the little volume on "The 
Raven" and its poetic progeny proving a most 
amusing literary curiosity. 

This poem, for which Poe received ten dol- 
lars, may be viewed as a unique example of 
increased valuation, for forty years after its 
publication, the owner of the original manu- 
script rated his literary property (said to be 
the most popular lyric in the world) at ten 
thousand dollars. 

Mallarme's interest in Poe had led him to 
make a literal, unrhymed translation of "The 
Raven," which had been most strikingly il- 
lustrated by Edouard Manet, the great painter 
of the Impressionist School. And although the 
structure of the poem makes its rendition into 
French exceedingly difficult, yet Mallarme's 
translation promptly became a favorite with his 
countrymen. 

When he was in his early twenties, Mal- 
larme spent considerable time in England, 
becoming so proficient in the language of that 
country that on his return to France he was 
prepared to accept the chair of English at the 
Lycee Fontanes, in Paris, which he continued 
to occupy for many years. 

Despite his proficiency in English, his cor- 
respondence with Mrs. Whitman was carried 
on entirely in French. 

Mallarme's first letter follows: 

[ 261 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



87 Rue de Rome, 

Paris, April 4, 1876. 
Madame : 

I do not know if this letter will precede or 
follow by a few days the arrival in Rhode 
Island of a copy of "Le Corbeau," that my 
collaborateur, Manet, and myself have felt it 
not less a duty than a pleasure to offer you. 

Whatever is done to honor the memory of 
a genius the most truly divine the world has 
seen, ought it not at first to obtain your sanc- 
tion ? 

Such of Poe's works as our great Baudelaire 
has left untranslated, that is to say, the poems 
and many of the critical fragments, I hope to 
make known to France, and my first attempt 
of which you will receive a specimen, is in- 
tended to attract attention to a future work, 
now nearly completed. 

I trust that the attempt will meet your ap- 
proval, but no possible success of my design 
in the future could cause you, madame, a 
satisfaction equal to the joy, vivid and pro- 
found and absolute, one of the best that my 
literary life has yet procured for me — caused 
by a fragment kindly sent me by M. Ingram 
from one of your letters in which you express 
a wish to see a copy of our "Corbeau." 

Not only in space, which is nothing, but in 
time, made up for each of us of the hours we 
deem most worthy of remembrance, your wish 

[ 262 ] 



STEPJIANE MALLARME 



seemed to come to me from so far ! and to 
bring with it the most delicious return of long 
cherished memories ever experienced by me, 
for, fascinated with the works of Poe from my 
infancy, it is already a very long time since 
your name became associated with his in my 
earliest and most intimate sympathies. 

Receive madame this expression of my 
gratitude such as your poetique soul may 
comprehend, for it is my inmost heart which 
thanks you, 

Stephane Mallarme. 

About this time Mallarme became interested 
in the Poe memorial volume, which was being 
compiled in Baltimore, and declared his in- 
tention of contributing to it. He also expressed 
his desire to dedicate his translation of Poe's 
poems to Mrs. Whitman. He wrote: 

"I shall contribute to the memorial volume 
that your compatriots are about to publish, 
two sonnets by one of my confreres and my- 
self, as also some admirable pages of Baude- 
laire, and finally a portrait of Poe copied by 
Manet from one which Ingram has just pub- 
lished. I propose, either this winter or in the 
spring, or later, to publish a complete transla- 
tion of the poems. Pardon these details they 
are associated with a request I have to make 
of you. It is that you will permit me to dedicate 
this translation to you. 

[ 263 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



"Do not refuse me that which I regard as 
a duty now that I know you and that it has 
become possible to me. Above all when I tell you 
that it was one of my earliest aspirations and 
that I would even then have ventured to do it 
without having the happiness of knowing you." 

A month later he writes expressing his 
gratitude for the interpretation of the poem 
"Ulalume, " which she has sent him with its 
history as she had gleaned it from her con- 
versations with Poe. 

"My first thought has been that I should 
have to-day translated for the first time the 
lines 'To Helen.' It seemed to me that I should 
do better in knowing the subject, ah ! let me 
take your hand. 

"Perhaps since the evil is done, and my trans- 
lation of this divine poem dates from the epoch 
when I translated the others, I may inquire if 
you have already seen the publication that I 
have made of it in one of our Reviews? The 
dedication and the preface will come afterward." 

Mallarme's first letter not only "preceded" 
the arrival of the "Corbeau," but did so by 
several months; the illustrated poem, was not 
consigned to Mrs. Moulton's care as had been 
suggested, but was forwarded by mail, and 
by some accident it disappeared during its 
transatlantic flight. In November, Mrs. Whit- 
man writes concerning the coming of a second 

[ 264 ] 



STEPIIANE MALLARME 



copy of the ill-fated book (which was really in 
the form of a portfolio, with its illustrations 
in large separate sheets, a gift which could 
not have been easily overlooked in a package 
of mail). 

"How can I thank you for your beautiful 
letter and for your generous intention of send- 
ing me another 'Corbeau/ I am so sorry that 
our 'ebony bird' should have caused you so 
much trouble; for aught we know it may be 
still wandering to and fro over the waste of 
waters like the raven which Noah sent forth 
from the window of his ark and which seems 
to have returned 'nevermore/ 

"Yet I cannot altogether regret the loss of 
this ominous bird since you say it caused your 
thoughts more frequently to wing their way 
across the ocean toward the haven to which 
it was destined. Nor need I tell you how grate- 
fully I shall receive from you the dedication 
of your proposed volume of the translated 
poems. Mr. Ingram has promised to send me 
a copy of the Republique des Lettres, containing 
your translation of the one 'To Helen/ Have 
you not made a translation of 'Ulalume' ?" 

It may be of interest to quote a brief extract 
from the translation of "To Helen," the poem 
beginning, "I saw thee once, once only," etc. 

Je te vis une fois — une seule fois — il-y-a-des 
annees: combien, je ne le dois pas dire, mais 

[ 265 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



peu. C'etait un minuit de Juillet; et hors du 
plein orbe d'une lune qui, comme ton ame 
meme s'elevant, se frayait un chemin precipite 
au haut du ciel, tombait de soie et argente un 
voile de lumiere, avec quietude et chaud acca- 
blement et sommeil, sur les figures levees de 
mille roses qui croissaient dans un jardin en- 
chante, ou nul vent n'osait bouger, si ce n'est 
sur la pointe des pieds; — il tombait sur les 
figures levees de ces roses qui renderaient, en 
retour de la lumiere d'amour, leurs odorantes 
ames en une mort extatique; — il tombait sur 
les figures souriaient et mouraient en ce parterre 
enchante — par toi et par la poesie de ta presence. 
Tout de blanc habillee, sur un banc de violette, 
je te vis a demi-gisante, tandis que la lune, tom- 
bait sur les figures levees de ces roses, et sur ta 
tienne meme, levee, helas ! dans le chagrin. 

Mrs. Whitman's reference to La Repuhlique 
des Lettres, which contained the Frenchman's 
translation of Poe's (second) poem "To Helen," 
recalls the fact that this publication was the 
organ of the new school of which Mallarme 
was one of the principal exponents. This was 
called the school of the Impressionists and had 
reacted against the Romantic school, which 
had for many years dominated the world of 
letters in France. Mallarme realized that the 
field of French poetry had become so con- 
ventionalized that all life and originality were 

[ 266 ] 



STEPIIANE MALL ARM E 



dying out of it and he desired "to refresh the 
languid current of French style/' 

This he succeeded in doing, and even his 
pupils, who pushed his theories too far, did 
much to give spontaneity and beauty to a 
national poetry that was becoming flat and 
tame. 

La Republique des Lettres y which Mallarme 
established, was later placed under the direc- 
tion of Catulle Mendes, the dramatist. This 
Review touched lightly upon politics and the 
arts, and published tales, poems, and plays 
of those interested in this new movement. 
Ivan Turgeneff was one of its leaders, and some 
of his finest work appeared in this organ. 
Alphonse Daudet, Zola, Leon Cladel, and 
Edmond and Jules de Goncourt were among 
other contributors. 

As a translator Mallarme holds a pre-eminent 
place, and his rendering of Poe's poems into 
French is considered a masterly accomplish- 
ment. Edmund Gosse says of it: "Each verse 
is in simple prose, but so full, so reserved, so 
suavely mellifluous, that the metre and the 
rhymes continue to sing in an English ear.' , 

Yet this same critic owns that while Mal- 
larme ever delights him, he cannot always 
understand his work, and in reference to his 
sonnet on the "Tomb of Poe," he declares: 
"I have read it over and over. I am very stupid 
but I cannot tell what it says." 

1 267 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



One needs only to study this poem in the 
original, to realize that Mrs. Whitman's task 
as translator was no easy one, although the 
critics have pronounced this sonnet one of 
Mallarme's most perfect productions: 

Tel qu'en Lui-meme enfin l'eternite le change, 

Le Poete suscite avec un glaive nu 

Son siecle epouvante de n'avoir pas connu 

Que la Mort triomphait dans cette voix etrange: 

Eux comme un vil sursaut d'hydra oyant jadis 1'ange 
Donner un sens plus pur aux mots de la tribu, 
Proclamerent tres-haut le sortilege bu 
Dans le flot sans honneur de quelque noir melange. 

Du sol et de la nue hostiles 6 grief! 

Si notre idee avec ne sculpte un bas-relief 

Dont la tombe de Poe eblouissante s'orne. 

Calme bloc ici-bas chu d'un desastre obscur; 
Que ce granit du moins montre a jamais sa borne 
Aux noirs vols du Blaspheme epars dans le futur. 

When Mrs. Whitman undertook the trans- 
lation of this sonnet, Mallarme, with a gallant 
desire to aid her, forwarded his own literal 
rendering of his poem into English, which is 
a document well worthy of preservation. 

Mallarme's literal translation: 

Such as into himself at last Eternity changes him, 
The Poet arouses with a naked ' hymn 
His century overawed not to have known 
That death extolled itself in this 2 strange voice: 

[ 268 ] 



STEPIIANE MALLARME 



But, in a vile writhing of an hydra, (they) once hearing 

the Angel 3 
To give 4 too pure a meaning to the words of the tribe, 
They (between themselves) thought (by him) the spell 

drunk 
In the honourless flood of some dark mixture. 5 

Of the soil and the ether (which are) enemies, O struggle ! 
If with it my idea does not carve a bas-relief 
Of which Poe's dazzling 6 tomb be adorned, 
(A) Stern block here fallen from a mysterious disaster, 
Let this granite at least show forever their bound 
To the old flights of Blasphemy (still) spread in the fu- 
ture. 7 

1 naked hymn means when the words take in death their abso- 

lute value. 

2 this " his own. 

3 the Angel " the above said Poet. 

4 to give " giving. 

5 " in plain prose — charged him with always 

being drunk. 

6 dazzling " with the idea of such a bas-relief. 

7 Blasphemy " against Poets, such as the charge of Poe 

being drunk. 

Mrs. Whitman's translation follows: 

THE TOMB OF EDGAR POE 

Even as Eternity his soul reclaimed, 

The poet's song ascended in a strain 

So pure, the astonished age that had defamed, 

Saw death transformed in that divine refrain.* 

While writhing coils of hydra-headed wrong, 
Listening, and wondering at that heavenly song, 



* "Annabel Lee." 
[ 269 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Deemed they had drank of some foul mixture brewed 
In Circe's maddening cup, with sorcery inbued. 

Alas ! if from an alien to his clime, 
No bas-relief may grace that font sublime, 
Stern block, in some obscure disaster hurled 
From the rent heart of a primeval world, 

Through storied centuries thou shalt proudly stand 

In the memorial city of his land, 

A silent monitor, austere and gray, 

To warn the clamorous brood of harpies from their prey. 

Whatever may be the verdict regarding the 
success of Mrs. Whitman's translation, it is 
certain that Mallarme's serious attempt to 
aid her by his literal rendering of his sonnet 
with its instructive notes, is as amusing a bit 
of memorabilia as one often discovers, and a 
little study of the problem which it presents 
gives an admirable idea to the uninitiated of 
the task which often confronts the translator. 

The final flight of Mallarme's Raven took 
place early in January, 1877, at which time the 
Frenchman wrote: "The publisher assures me 
that you will have been in possession of the 
Raven some days when this reaches you, and 
although I trust that a letter from you will 
confirm my hope, a little dubious in this re- 
spect (lest the sombre bird should have aban- 
doned himself to some new fantasie of flight 
and disappearance ?) I have so much to thank 
you for that I will anticipate your answer, 
perhaps even now on the way to me." 

[ 270 ] 



STEPIJANE MALLARME 



Mallarme thanks Mrs. Whitman for sending 
him by Mr. Walter Francis Brown of Provi- 
dence a copy of " Edgar Poe and His Critics," 
with which he is exceedingly delighted. 

Mrs. Whitman's note of introduction penned 
to the Frenchman at the time of Mr. Brown's 
departure, illustrates her graceful manner of 
writing presentation missives; she says: "Mr. 
Walter F. Brown, a young artist of our city, 
will hand you this note. He is on the wing for 
Paris, that paradisal city where, as one of our 
humorists says, 'All good Americans hope to go 
when they die.' Mr. Brown is not dead. On the 
contrary, he trusts to spend the winter there in 
preparing himself for immortality. 

"I know that he will have great pleasure in 
making your acquaintance, and that the plea- 
sure will be a reciprocal one." 

Early in February, 1877, Mrs. Whitman writes 
of the arrival of the long-delayed "Raven": 

"I have so many things to thank you for! 

"Since I wrote you the 'Corbeau' has become 
my room-mate, my fireside companion — a 
presence as real to me as any dream while you 
are dreaming it. Two of the etchings illustrate 
the walls of my boudoir; one, where he is seen 
swooping down over the roofs of the towered 
city toward the open window of the poet, and 
the other where he sits enthroned in shadows 
on the bust of Pallas. These are wonderfully 
unique and impressive. As for the one where 

[ 271 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



we see of the Raven only what purports to be 
4 his shadow on the floor,' it is so far out of the 
range of my appreciation that I hardly know 
where to class it. Entre nous I should like to 
do with it what the Greeks did with their 
honored dead, i e., cremate it. Would the new 
school of artists ever forgive me ?" 

Manet's illustrations, done, it has been said, 
in his most "intimidating" style, are startling 
productions. A glance at some of them reveals 
strange blotches of black ink apparently with- 
out form or meaning, but presently what has 
seemed merely a splash of ink proves to be a 
grotesque vision which takes hold on the imag- 
ination with a haunting persistency. 

Mallarme's unrhymed translation of "The 
Raven," to which these pictures formed so 
startling an accompaniment is considered a 
remarkable piece of work from which it may be 
of interest to quote a couple of stanzas: 

Une fois, par un minuit lugubre, tandis que 
je m'appesantissais, faible et fatigue, sur maint 
curieux et bizarre volume de savoir oublie — 
tandis que je dodelinais la tete, somnolent 
presque: soudain se fit un heurt, comme de 
quelqu'un frappant doucement, frappant a la 
porte de ma chambre — cela seul et rien de plus. 

• •••••■• 

Prophete, dis-je, etre de malheur ! prophete, 
oui, oiseau ou demon ! Que si le Tentateur 

[ 272 ] 



STEPIIANE MALLARME 



t'envoya ou la tempete t'echoua vers ces bords, 
desole et encore tout indompte, vers cette de- 
serte terre enchantee — vers ce logis par l'horreur 
hante: dis-mois veritablement, je t'implore. 
" Y a-t-il du baume en Judee ? — dis-moi, je t' 
implore!" Le Corbeau dit: "Jamais plus." 

Mrs. Whitman's letter concerning this pro- 
duction closes with the words: 

"Your translation is wonderfully true. I am a 
little in doubt about the translation of the words 
(stock and store) by the word bagage. To the 
English reader it 'suggests' something perhaps 
a little too palpable and tangible nest ce pas? 

"Your 'Vathek' has also arrived and was 
to me a delightful surprise. I have read your 
preface with strange interest. It reopens many 
questions long unanswered. It is indeed a 
treasure. I do not know where Poe has spoken 
of Beckford, but I am sure that he has often 
either written or spoken of him. His 'Domain 
of Arnheim,' in which he speaks of Fonthill 
was apparently suggested by it. On the margin 
of a magazine containing this story sent me 
by Poe before its publication in a vol., he wrote: 
'this story contains more of myself and of my 
inherent tastes and habits of thought than 
anything I have written/ " 

Mallarme's reprint of Beckford's "Vathek," 
to which he wrote the introduction above re- 
ferred to, was among his early publications, as 

[ 273 ] 



POKS HELEN 



was his poem "L'Apres-Midi d'un Faune," 
which, though ridiculed at the time of its ap- 
pearance in the early seventies, and called 
"a miracle of unintelligibility," has taken its 
place among the French classics — and to-day 
the bibliophiles vie with each other to obtain 
copies of these two publications. 

For years Mallarme, champion of the Im- 
pressionists, was scoffed at in France and 
elsewhere, but he kept on his way with absolute 
indifference to outside criticism, and gradually 
a great change came about in public opinion. 

Those that visited his salon were convinced 
that it was the one vital force operating in 
the literary world of Paris. Renan was lec- 
turing at the Sorbonne, while Mallarme was 
rolling cigarettes and talking nonchalantly to 
visitors at his own fireside. His guests were 
not deterred by the fact that they must 
climb up four flights of stairs to reach him, 
but flocked to his abode. There he appeared 
arrayed in his working clothes, for his recep- 
tions were for men only; he opened the door 
himself, and ushered his guests into his modest 
apartment which was generally filled to over- 
flowing with the rising artists and men of let- 
ters of the day. 

In this sanctum conversation was carried on 
in the most simple and direct manner, for affec- 
tation shrank out of sight before Mallarme's 
absolute sincerity. 

[ 274 ] 



STEPIIANE MALL ARM E 



Talkers who had come to hear themselves 
speak, suddenly discovered that there was no 
chance to exploit themselves here: if they 
started " brilliant " conversation no response 
came from the others present, and they soon 
realized that this circle had gathered to listen 
to Mallarme alone; it was a place of silence and 
tranquillity, the only place in Paris, it was 
said, where long intervals of quiet could pre- 
vail without seeming awkwardness. And in 
these marvellous intervals Mallarme was like 
a presiding Quaker at a Quaker meeting; the 
guests did not talk among themselves nor did 
they try to make him speak, they merely 
waited for him to do so; as one by one the 
subjects near to the thoughts and interests of 
all arose, the presiding genius discoursed easily 
and delightfully upon the various topics which 
he knew how to make both helpful and inspir- 
ing to his fellow craftsmen. 

In that atmosphere one could indeed take 
what Mallarme called "an exquisite vacation 
from oneself." 

Apart from his receptions and from his de- 
light in the drama, and in witnessing beauti- 
ful dancing, Mallarme's especial recreation was 
found in slipping away to his boat and gliding 
out over the water. In his enjoyment of this 
favorite pastime he seems to have resembled 
the English poet and tanslator Fitzgerald, who 
loved his boating in the same way, and to 

[ 275 ] 



POFS HELEN 



whom a sailing breeze was more tempting 
than a pot of gold. 

In the year 1896, Mallarme was paid one 
of the highest honors that his country could 
bestow; he was named "Poete des Poetes," by 
acclaim of all the poets in France. It was an 
election at which almost every Frenchman of 
letters voted. Then for two years prior to his 
death he lived in the full blaze of fame, being 
regarded as the most conspicuous man of letters 
in France. Pilgrims visited him as they did 
Victor Hugo, and his Tuesdays, which had 
meant so much to the younger writers of 
Prance, became renowned throughout the lit- 
erary world. 

Mallarme's influence in the world of letters 
has been very great; he evolved a new theory 
of French verse, and many claim that he was 
the father of vers lihre, despite the fact that 
while he stood for a new freedom he took no 
liberty with long-standing laws. 

Yet it is true that his translations of Poe 
set the pace for the new school from which 
the exponents of vers lihre assuredly derive 
their inspiration. 

He believed that "words are precious stones, 
and should be so set as to flash and radiate 
from the page." And of his use of words Ed- 
mund Gosse has declared: "language was 
given him to conceal definite thought; to draw 
the eye away from the object, he aims at il- 

[ 276] 



STEPIIANE MALL ARM E 



lusion, and wraps mystery around his simplest 
utterance." 

He was a dreamer of dreams and a con- 
veyer of impressions instead of information; 
his words were suggestive rather than de- 
scriptive. Mallarme's family had been devoted 
to the service of France for many generations, 
and in the same spirit, he worked always for 
his cause and never for himself. 

He died in 1898, after a life devoted to 
letters, yet he left only enough poems to make 
one small volume; a single volume of prose, a 
few pamphlets, and the prose translation of 
the poems of Poe. Among these are, however, 
some masterpieces of verse and prose. 

Arthur Symons said of him: "Mallarme was 
one of those who love literature too much to 
write it, except by fragments, in whom the 
desire for perfection brings its own defeat." 

He stood out against the ultra-realistic 
school, and headed the revolt against Zola, 
asserting his principle that "to name is to de- 
stroy, to suggest is to create." 

He was an early defender of Wagner, and 
fought for Manet, Rodin, and Degas, when 
all were against them. He introduced Maeter- 
linck to fame. He was the head of the Sym- 
bolists, and it was due to Mallarme that 
Whistler's masterpiece, the portrait of his 
mother, found a home in the Luxembourg. 

Mallarme's portrait was painted by both 

[ 277 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Whistler and Manet, two close friends, who 
had found in him adequate appreciation at a 
time when the public had not learned to prize 
their worth. 

Two years after Mrs. Whitman's death, 
the Arnold portrait, by which alone she pre- 
ferred to be remembered, was reproduced and 
copies sent to intimate friends by Mrs. Albert 
Dailey. One of these pictures was forwarded 
to Mallarme, who expressed his pleasure and 
appreciation to Mrs. Dailey on October 28, 
1880. He wrote: 

Madam : 

I have been touched as well as made happy 
by your sending the portrait of Mrs. Whit- 
man. 

It is a true act of devotion on your part 
to have thus perpetuated the expressive fea- 
tures which you have so often looked upon, 
and which I could but imagine. 

But I must first of all thank you for having 
thought of me in the bestowal of the precious 
token, and of having (just as she whom we 
mourn condescended to do in her life-time) 
treated me as a friend of this noble woman; 
a friend who will now be yours madam if you 
are willing. 

I am pleased to summon from the past, 
while reflecting upon the beautiful and gifted 
one recalled by the image which you have 

[ 278 ] 



STEPIIANE MALL A RUE 



given me, the lines of the poet To Helen of a 
night. 

How daring an ambition! yet how deep — - 
How fathomless a capacity for love! 

Thank you for all these recollections once 
more revived by your kindness madam; and 
believe me, 

Your grateful and devoted 

Stephane Mallarme. 



[ 279 ] 



CHAPTER XV 
MRS. WHITMAN'S LAST DAYS 

MRS. WHITMAN'S last years were spent 
in the city of her birth, where she had 
passed almost her entire life. Returning 
to Providence as a young widow in 1833, s ^ e 
had left the city, only for brief trips to Bos- 
ton, New York, or Washington, except for 
her European tour in 1857. 

Time touched her with a gentle finger, and 
as her contemporaries one by one dropped 
away, she drew about her a circle of young 
people to whom she contributed much of 
friendly criticism and literary inspiration; she 
was free from all petty judgments, and no be- 
littling gossip ever passed her lips. Retaining 
her enthusiasm and interest in all that was 
taking place about her, she was always ready 
to welcome new thoughts and to foster the 
bright hopes of a rising generation. 

Her keen interest in spiritualistic phenom- 
ena, and her firm belief in the nearness of the 
spiritual world, seemed to surround her with 
an unworldly air and kept her in a certain 
poetical atmosphere which belonged to herself 
alone. 

A brief description of Mrs. Whitman's home 
during her final years has been given by Pro- 

[ 280 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LAST DAYS 

fessor William Whitman Bailey, whose asso- 
ciations were with the house on Benevolent 
Street, and not with that on Benefit Street 
with which she is usually associated. 

"Her sitting-room was at the left of the 
front door as one entered, and there the lights 
were alwajs turned down. Bits of drapery 
hung about, gave a weird and sombre aspect 
to the apartment. Mrs. Whitman always wore 
a veil in doors. I think it was in this room that 
there hung a large portrait of Poe. . . . 
Her other pictures some of which were given 
by artist friends of whom she had many, were 
of varying merit. Whether good or not, she 
exalted all, placing the artist's intention far 
above any conceivable execution. Her imagina- 
tion could transform the veriest cheap chromo 
into a masterpiece. She had a trick of inverting 
her lamp shades so that a flood of light would 
be thrown upon and suffuse some particular 
painting or print, leaving the rest of the room 
in darkness. . . . 

"She would indeed poke good-humored fun 
at her best friends, or most treasured beliefs, 
meaning no harm, and expecting the same 
treatment of herself. Like Hood, Lamb, Holmes, 
Thackeray and others she loved a pun, but 
to have it passible, it must be very good. . . . 

"I have never known any one with so lively 
a fancy. We were always passing literary squibs 
between us. ... I met her one spring day on 

[ 281 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Benefit Street, she was walking abstractedly as 
she was wont to do, till I accosted her, then 
she at once brightened up; I had just returned 
flower-laden from the woods, in passing I 
handed her some sprigs of trailing-arbutus. 
I can see her now as she tripped off with her 
peculiar springy step, She always appeared 
when on the street as if wrapped in medita- 
tion. Next day she had acknowledged the gift 
by a graceful poem in the Journal. 

"She always was youthful in feeling though 
then seventy years of age. . . . Her youth 
was a characteristic feature, not assumed, but 
an ever-present charm, spontaneous and most 
delightful. One never realized that she was an 
old lady. . . . She had a rare devotion to 
youth of either sex. I think their earnestness and 
hope appealed to her. . . . The life of the artist 
appealed to her. She certainly loved Bohemians, 
even if they lived as she did, from hand to 
mouth. It was certainly wonderful and pitiful 
to know upon how little she and Miss Power 
could exist. They kept no cook or maid, and 
ate like the gods when there was food 5 not 
always nectar and ambrosia, and when they 
felt like it. Her affection for her sister, so long 
afflicted, was most tender and pathetic, and 
to me always recalled the relation of Charles 
and Mary Lamb." 

Mrs. Whitman's eye for nature was extraor- 
dinarily acute and any one who accompanied 

[ 282 ] 




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* 



fe} 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LAST DAYS 

her on her walks was expected to share in her 
process of minute observation. One of her 
friends asserted that "not a tint of the sky, 
the meadow, the river, the wood escaped her; 
no flower was too small to be seen by her, and 
all her glances, like those of Thoreau, were 
discoveries. " 

As the eccentricities of her sister Anna in- 
creased with advancing age, Mrs. Whitman 
withdrew more and more from general society, 
adapting her life in every way to suit the 
other's demands and needs. She had for years 
felt convinced that Anna would survive her, 
and had in consequence practised the most 
rigid economy in order that she might leave 
the helpless sister provided for. 

When, at last, the younger woman, to whose 
welfare she had dedicated the greater part of 
her life, passed on, Mrs. Whitman, then seven- 
ty-four years of age, was left entirely alone 
and seemingly in need, not only of care and 
affection but of the necessities of life. Then it 
was that Mrs. Albert Dailey, who had for years 
cherished a w^arm friendship for her, insisted 
that she should become a member of her own 
household. This invitation Mrs. Whitman ac- 
cepted gladly, making it later clear to these 
friends that she still possessed a sufficient in- 
come to amply defray any financial indebted- 
ness. 

On the 27th of June, 1878, less than a year 

[ 233 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



after the death of her sister, Mrs. Whitman 
passed peacefully away at the home of these 
kind friends, where the last months of her 
life had been surrounded with every comfort. 
There she had been free to see and entertain 
her friends, had found a resting-place for her 
own household treasures, and had been tended 
faithfully by the daughters of the house, who 
had bestowed upon her the same affection that 
would have been vouchsafed a member of their 
own family. 

To the elder daughter, Miss Charlotte Field 
Dailey, who especially devoted herself to the 
elderly guest, and who watched over her when 
she breathed her last, Mrs. Whitman took 
pleasure in recounting the interesting story of 
those past years so filled with memories of the 
distinguished men and women of her time. 
Gazing at her favorite picture of Poe upon 
the wall of her room, she frequently recalled 
the varied associations linked with the poet's 
tragic career. 

During her last months Mrs. Whitman em- 
ployed her remaining strength in preparing 
her collected poems for publication, and in 
going through the mass of correspondence 
which she had preserved; day after day she 
busied herself in destroying countless letters 
which she felt would be of no value in the 
compilation of the memoir which she believed 
would soon be forthcoming. 

[ 284 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LAST DAYS 

A few months after Mrs. Whitman's death, 
a revised and enlarged collection of her poems 
was published, containing an introduction by 
her literary executor, Doctor William F. Chan- 
ning. In this volume are included all the poems 
relating to Edgar Poe, some sixteen in number. 
Mrs. Whitman's first book of verse appeared 
in 1853, when it received a warm welcome 
from both critics and public; it was entitled 
"Hours of Life, and Other Poems. " 

After the death of Doctor Channing, Mrs. 
Whitman's literary remains were consigned to 
the care of Miss Dailey, who, with her sister 
Mrs. Henry R. Chace, discharged the task of 
going through the entire correspondence and 
noting its contents. Later, these ladies ren- 
dered material assistance to Professor Harri- 
son in his work of editing Poe's writings and 
of preparing his Life. 

Except for the publication of "Edgar Poe 
and His Critics," in i860, Mrs. Whitman 
brought out no other book, although through- 
out her life she was a constant contributor of 
both prose and verse, to the periodicals of the 
day, as well as a correspondent for the New 
York Tribune and the Providence Journal. 

The popular idea that Mrs. Whitman's 
claim to literary immortality rests solely upon 
the foundation of her brief engagement to 
Poe, and her association with his memory, 
vanishes in the light of the knowledge of her 

1 285 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



own attainments and of the genuine title to 
remembrance which she won for herself. 

Mrs. Whitman's Celtic strain of romance 
and her ever-ready wit were doubtless an in- 
heritance from her father Nicholas Power, 
who claimed descent from that Nicholas le 
Poer, whose castle Don Isle was one of the 
first to fall under Cromwell's hand. (And in 
memory of this romantic episode the pet 
name "Don Isle" was bestowed on Mrs. Whit- 
man by Mrs. Dailey.) From her mother, whose 
strong and steadfast character is stamped up- 
on the pictures that remain of her, she prob- 
ably inherited her independent mental attitude, 
liberal religious outlook and also that well- 
balanced mind which held in check the purely 
romantic and sentimental in her nature which 
must else have predominated too strongly. 

Mrs. Whitman early developed an aptitude 
for literature and language, and her attain- 
ments soon far surpassed those of the average 
young women of her day. Her fondness for the 
classics is evident to all who scrutinize her 
works both of prose and verse. To her knowl- 
edge of French and Italian she added a per- 
fect facility in reading German and Spanish, 
an equipment which prepared her to exercise 
her critical faculty in estimating the produc- 
tions of foreign writers. 

She acknowledged that Dante had been a 
very strong influence in her literary life, as 

[ 286 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LAST DAYS 

his presentment of the allegory of humanity 
amid the m)'stic scenes of the supernatural 
had powerfully affected her imagination. And 
she especially reflects this influence in her 
long poem entitled "Hours of Life." This and 
many of her sonnets, which she looked upon 
as her more important contributions to the 
field of poetry, are to-day little known, while 
some of her fugitive poems, in which she has 
revealed her love of nature with much grace 
and charm, will continue to hold their place 
among this nation's best work. It is hard to 
find anything lovelier than "A Still Day in 
Autumn," which was set to music by Henry 
Wilson, and, under the title of "Autumn," 
became one of the favorite songs of its day. 
From this poem three stanzas are quoted: 

I love to wander through the woodlands hoary, 
In the soft gloom of an autumnal day, 
When summer gathers up her robes of glory, 
And like a dream of beauty, glides away. 

How through each loved familiar path she lingers, 
Serenely smiling through the golden mist, 
Tinting the wild grapes with her dewy fingers, 
Till the cool emerald turns to amethyst; 

Kindling the faint stars of the hazel, shining 
To light the gloom of Autumn's mouldering halls; 
With hoary plumes the clematis entwining, 
Where, o'er the rock, her withered garland falls. 

[ 287 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



That even in the last months of failing 
health Mrs. Whitman's intellectual powers 
knew no abatement is evinced in her last 
poem "In Memoriam," written in memory 
of her sister in April, 1878, only two months 
before her own death. 

During these last months, which were also 
the first months of freedom which she had in 
years experienced, she looked out with all 
her natural enthusiasm upon the awakening 
spring, and sighed to think that now that 
she was at liberty to enjoy the outside world, 
the arch-enemy pain forbade her doing so. 
"It is a pity that I cannot enjoy it, now that 
I am free," she was heard to murmur with a 
faint smile. She loved life, but she was ready 
for death, which she had long faced, and now 
awaited with cheerful composure; it was to 
her no plunge into the dark, only a slipping 
out into the light, and in her poem "The Angel 
of Death/' written long years before, she had 
expressed her welcome to this messenger: 

Henceforth, the sorrowing heart its pulse shall still 

To solemn cadences of sweet repose, 

Content life's mystic passion to fulfill 

In the great calm that from thy promise flows. 

Welcome as the white feet of those who bring 
Glad tidings of great joy into the world, 
Shall fall the shadow of thy silver wing 
Over the weary couch of woe unfurled. 

[ 288 ] 



MRS. WHITMAN'S LAST DAYS 

A heavenly halo kindles round thy brow; 
Beyond, the palms of Eden softly wave, 
Bright messengers athwart the empyrean go, 
And love, to love, makes answer o'er the grave. 

This poem in its complete form was read 
at the close of the simple funeral ceremonies 
which were held at the Dailey home, on the 
last day of June, 1878. Mrs. Whitman was 
laid in the North Burial Ground, in Provi- 
dence, where, in spite of her request that no 
stone should be placed above her grave, and 
that only the green turf should mark the spot, 
her literary executor erected a "suitable tab- 
let" to her memory. 

Mrs. Whitman's little volume "Edgar Poe 
and His Critics" won for its author the highest 
praise from the critics on both sides of the 
water, and all acknowledged that no more 
searching analysis of Poe's spiritual and in- 
tellectual equipment had been advanced than 
that furnished by this author when she says: 

"Wanting in that supreme central force or 
faculty of the mind whose function is a God- 
conscious and God-adoring faith, Edgar Poe 
sought earnestly and conscientiously for such 
solutions of the great problems of thought as 
were alone attainable to an intellect hurled 
from its balance by the abnormal preponder- 
ance of the analytical and imaginative faculties. 
It was to this very disproportion that we are 
indebted for some of those marvellous intellec- 

[ 289 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



tual creations, which, as we shall hope to prove, 
had an important significance, and an especial 
adaptation to the time." 

And at the end of her monograph she con- 
cludes with the words: 

"Could we believe that any plea we may 
have urged in extenuation of Edgar Foe's 
infirmities and errors would make the fatal 
path he trod less abhorrent to others, such 
would never have been proffered. No human 
sympathy, no human charity, could avert 
the penalties of that erring life. One clear 
glance into its mournful corridors, its 'halls of 
tragedy and chambers of retribution,' would 
appall the boldest heart. 

'Theodore Parker has nobly said that 
'every man of genius has to hew out for him- 
self, from the hard marbles of life, the white 
statue of tranquillity/ Those who have best 
succeeded in this sublime work will best know 
how to look with pity and reverent awe upon 
the melancholy torso which alone remains to 
us of Edgar Poe's misguided efforts to achieve 
that august statue of peace." 

Mrs. Whitman's literary vision was a re- 
markably clear one; she could see truly v and 
could also discern the best; that for which she 
was always searching. And it was said of her 
that in her presence "one felt that noble and 
beautiful things were possible." 

Her admirable prose portrait of Edgar Poe 
[ 290 ] 



MRS. IV HITMAN'S LAST DAYS 

may well be supplemented by her last vision of 
the poet, embodied in her poem "The Portrait.'' 

After long years I raised the folds concealing 
That face, magnetic as the morning's beam: 
While slumbering memory thrilled at its revealing, 
Like Memnon waking from his marble dream. 

Again I saw the brow's translucent pallor, 
The dark hair floating o'er it like a plume; 
The sweet imperious mouth, whose haughty valor 
Defied all portents of impending doom. 

Eyes planet calm, with something in their vision 
That seemed not of earth's mortal mixture born; 
Strange mythic faiths and fantasies Elysian, 
And far, sweet dreams of "fairy lands forlorn." 

Unfathomable eyes that held the sorrow 
Of vanished ages in their shadowy deeps, 
Lit by the prescience of a heavenly morrow 
Which in high hearts the immortal spirit keeps. 

Oft has that pale, poetic presence haunted 
My lonely musings at the twilight hour, 
Transforming the dull earth-life it enchanted, 
With marvel and with mystery and with power. 

Oft have I heard the sullen sea-wind moaning 
Its dirge-like requiems on the lonely shore, 
Or listening to the autumn woods intoning 
The wild, sweet legend of the lost Lenore; 

Oft in some ashen evening in October, 
Have stood entranced beside a mouldering tomb 
Hard by that visionary Lake of Auber, 
Where sleeps the shrouded form of Ulalume. 

[ 291 ] 



POE'S HELEN 



Oft in chill, star-lit nights have heard the chiming 
Of far-off mellow bells on the keen air, 
And felt their molten-golden music timing 
To the heart's pulses, answering unaware. 

Sweet, mournful eyes, long closed upon earth's sorrow 
Sleep restfully after life's fevered dream ! 
Sleep, wayward heart ! till on some cool, bright morrow, 
Thy soul, refreshed, shall bathe in morning's beam. 

Though cloud and sorrow rest upon thy story, 
And rude hands lift the drapery of thy pall, 
Time, as a birthright, shall restore the glory, 
And Heaven rekindle all the stars that fall. 



[ 292 ] 



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